Several Ways to Die Trying
by asthickasthieves
Summary: Ron and Hermoine’s unsaid thoughts and unseen events in Deathly Hallows. Includes scenes mentioned and not mentioned in their POV postwar scenes. A read and a review would be so kind of you. I have to say, the later chapters are my personal favorites
1. Into Your Arms Again

Several Ways to Die Trying

A/N: Ron and Hermione's unsaid soundtrack and events in Deathly Hallows (SpOiLeRs). This side of the story replays their thoughts that J. K. Rowling left for me to reveal to you. The italics are their thoughts. Since my publish date I have edited the first few chapters attempting to entwine the lyrics more into the story making it more fluent. Pray don't be afraid to review.

Into Your Arms Again

(Chapter 1)

War brewed. It boiled hotly in the air and burned hauntingly in young and old wizards alike. So do to this daunting and demoralizing reality of dark wizardry plaguing the occupants of the entire world, non-wizards, or muggles, wouldn't understand the danger that forebodingly threatened the future of every human everywhere. However, in Hermione parent's case, the Grangers, this known threat was best not to be made know to them.

It was for their own good. Hermione reminded herself quietly and repetitively as the last of her trained and practiced yet regretful and hesitant wand flicks and spell casts found residence upon her parent's memories. Because young, inexperienced, and self-critical, Hermoine apprehended little hope that the spell would contain them and forever protect them if in fact her courageous efforts to help her vital friend ended… unsuccessfully.

_It was for their own good._

To obscure her brooding and throbbing negativities about the entire situation she soon left behind her in Australia as she and her escort headed for the burrow, Hermoine determined to focus on the positive. Maybe, for instance, where in fact she was headed. _I still got a day or two ahead of me until I'll be heading home into your arms again…_The burrow: a second home, a safe haven with the Weasleys, other wizards from the Order, and Ron.

Despite himself, war overhead, and constant concern toward anything that warranted such continuous attention, Ron allowed a vague on the exterior yet vivid in the interior awkward grin to crack his face, long stoned with loss and the premonition that more loss was soon to come. Despite this, Ron felt silently well, well knowing that Hermoine would soon be there. Though their next adventure proclaimed itself more important because of the dubious task of protecting the Boy Who Lived and the Boy Who Will Become of Age Soon and the Boy Will No Longer under His Mothers Fantastic Protection, Ron still felt a tide of peace overcome his conscience with Hermione's soon arrival.

George's head appeared around the corner of his door, "Is your dearest Hermoine here yet?" Ron tossed a pillow from beneath him, violently, directing it where George's figure once was. As if his glare could reach down the hall and finish the job Ron failed to accomplish upon George's mocking head, Ron narrowed his eyes at the door while anxiously blushing. _…And the people here are asking after you. It doesn't make it easier, it doesn't make it easier to be away._

Hours sulked mercilessly forward until relief in two wizard forms, one with unpredictable and gum flavored hair and one with untamed, unruly brown hair, suddenly appeared over the hill into the dome of numerous protection spells of the burrow. From a long imprisonment, a sigh of utter relief escaped Ron. He could feel her stubbornly irresistible and wonderfully unnerving presence already.

A sea of red heads ambushed the new comers, Mrs. Weasley, of course, giving her greetings in the only Mrs. Weasley way. When air was finally allowed into her lungs as Mrs. Weasley freed her grip, Hermoine couldn't resist a smile herself since Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley's seemed to be handing them out so joyfully even under the dim circumstances. After other smiles and hellos were tossed about, she approached the crooked grin kid with blushing hair. Slowly encompassing her arms around his neck, she pulled gently into a small hug that had and anything but a small impact on Ron's ears. Hermoine pulled gently away as quickly as had pulled into it but not without rewarding Ron's betraying ears with a certain shade of blush, playing on her cheeks. Attempting to hide that inevitable blush, she smiled.

Ron returned it, breathless and wordless still. Soon, too soon, they and other wand whiskers would journey to Private Drive and liberate Harry Potter forever from the vile Uncle Vernon and company. A task indeed very dangerous and Ron hadn't enjoyed the idea of Hermoine being exposed to such danger, so early in their quest but reconsidered. _For so long I thought I was asylum bound, but just seeing you makes me think twice. _The thought of Hermoine vacant from his side replaced a new discomfort. Hermoine leaving his side? No, he would not tolerate that idea at all. _And being with you here makes me sane. I fear I'll go crazy if you leave my side._

What seemed like seconds later, Hermoine and Ron launched into the air with their accomplices and toward a venture of a lifetime. Together. And Harry of course.


	2. I Will Not Bend and I Will Not Break

I Will Not Bend and I Will Not Break

(Chapter 2)

Tonks landed abruptly before them, pebbles and dirt like an explosion clouded them as Ron stepped warily toward a frightened Hermoine and Harry. Gasping in painful relief, Hermoine pounced him for a prolonged hug.

"You're okay," Ron whispered quietly into Hermoine's ear, saying it more as comfort for himself than an announcement to anyone else. Tonks relayed the events in passed few minutes fluidly and quickly, trying to explain to her husband why they had been late arriving back at the burrow. Ron was entirely Ron and not Harry, so it was evident that the poly juice worn off quite a while back. When, however, Tonks commended Ron on his stunning charms toward the trailing Death Eaters, Hermoine gazed up at Ron in awe and asked whether it was true or not. Pushing Hermoine gently away now, Ron clarified his courage distastefully since Hermoine allowed herself to believe so little in him though he knew that had not been her original intent. A sudden rush of guilt of releasing Hermoine from his grasp washed over Ron. Even since last year and since the Lavender Brown incident, Ron still miss stepped in these moments when he had dearly hoped he could eventually make up for those transgression now. _Try to understand there's an old mistake that fools will make and I'm the king of them, pushing everything that's good away._ He had also hoped that when he held her in a non-charmed and non-spell grip beneath his arms, although a grip just as safe to Hermoine, at Dumbledore's funeral, he earnestly hoped he could make up for his lack of value toward Hermoine that last year in every single way at every single chance he was graced with.

Hermione watched Ron's irritable demeanor but only stared in awe in his Gryffindor bravery that finally seemed to sculpt what also seemed to be forming into a well-chiseled character. Silently she asked him, "_won't you hold me now?" _

Ron readily refused and even rebuked the thought of ever disappointing, upsetting, or hurting Hermoine ever again. He then promised. _I will not bend and I will not break._

Over their drinks toward their devotion to the vigilant Mad-Eye, Hermoine attempted to steal a glance at a solemn Ron.

_Won't you hold me now?_


	3. For You To Need Me

For You to Need Me

(Chapter 3)

So soft and brief, the knock at his bedroom door Ron certainly could barely believe it to be his mother preparing a thorough scolding. She never knocked but in case his mother's ways were changing with times, he rapidly busied himself with all the askew clothing about the room. Instead of a red head Weasley sneaking into the room, behind the door revealed Hermione carrying several objects and a great proportion of them being books. Much relieved to find Hermione adjoining him, Ron smiled incredulously at her. Skipping and ignoring orders? This scene of Miss Granger before him could not be found liable!

"Ignoring orders? From the Mrs. Weasley, herself? You're not a death eater disguised as a Hermione, are you?" Ron teased with a lazy and exaggerate flip of his wand in a "z" formation. Hermione only returned it with a smile and an annoyed squint of her nose. _She smiled in a big way, the way a girl like that smiles when the world is hers…_

Yes, the world was hers, stealing it away when she released her magic too grand to be contained in a simple wooden wand because it only belonged in a smile. Silently beginning her complex task of deciphering which books to bring with them on their, for lack of a better word, trip with Harry, Hermione parked herself in the corner as Ron silently began adoringly observing her intense and serious expressions.

"Will we seriously need all those books?" Ron questioned, overshadowing the alternative words truly aspiring to be said. _Those three words are said too much and not an enough._ She smiled again as if hearing his loud reverberating thoughts.

"You never know, Ron, you might find the need to educate yourself while we're out saving the world." Hermione speculated his protruding tongue with disdain briefly but soon returned it with her own. Ron laughter echoed inside Hermione like bells. _And color the coast with your smile; it's the most genuine thing that I've ever seen._

Disliking the idea of standing so far from the Hermione's bewitching warmth, Ron inconspicuously mingled his pretense tidying around the closet area near Hermione's current location. With sudden adolescent horror, Ron become aware of Hermione leaning one of her hands on one of his electric orange boxers. Fortunately, this small embarrassment continued unnoticed by Hermione until Ron foolishly decided to remove it. It certainly couldn't continue unnoticed now that it stared blindingly and brightly into her face.

"Oh," She squeaked, "sorry." Ron's blush differed in the color of his boxers but still measured the same in its inconvenient illumination.

"Must be Harry's" Ron mumbled nonetheless. Hermione giggled beneath a curtaining hand. Despite his humiliation, Ron laughed also yet stared intently at the wrinkles at the result of her infectious laughter. His stare like his orange briefs, Hermione noticed quite well and found herself staring back. Their laughter faded into an awkward silence of the unintentional and unexpected staring competition they seemed to commence. How idiotic was he last year? Attempting to make beautifully stubborn, innocent, and brilliant Hermione jealous? Had he divulged himself so vigorously with self-doubt and disbelief? How lost he had become but still had come so far as to still have her sitting next to him? _I was so lost but now I believe._

Could he still doubt his feelings or his belief in himself to love Hermione properly?

In her eyes of drowning brown, he knew he could find himself worthy one day however lost he once was. _I have reasons to believe I have victory in defeat. _He now found home. There, so close to Hermione.

A creaking door ended the competition and Ron bolted from his squat beside Hermione and darted to his bed, trying to begin again his false pretense of cleaning it.

"I'm doing it, I'm doing it—oh its you" Ron interrupted himself relieved that the intruder revealed only Harry. With a new presence, Ron immediately ignited a conversation about Mad-Eye but it ended poorly when Harry stated something heartlessly causing Hermione to rupture into tears. As immediate as his conversation starter, Ron bolted to Hermione's side to aid and defend. Helplessly trying to relieve her tears with a dirty handkerchief, Ron offered his services to Hermione who received them gratefully. Comforting words of encouragement and reassurance, Ron consoled her thoroughly, reminding her what Mad-Eye would say in a moment such as this. In a few seconds later, he had her giggling again. He started to fashion an idea in his head…_where I would impress you with every single word I said would come out insightful, or brave, or smooth, or charming. And you'd want to call me... And I would be there every time you'd need me_

_I'd be there every time..._

An extreme pain elevated in Ron's foot when he decided to return to his bed.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Hermione removed the book's jaws from Ron's leg. Just as Ron was soothing Hermione, she reminisced how well he continued to take care of her in her time of need lately. Would he finally be the knight in shiny robes she had been waiting for since their second year at Hogwarts? _But for now I'll look so longingly waiting...for you to want me _

Harry caused Hermione to cry again and again Ron appeared at her side. He embraced her while resuming his task to one day be fully equipped for him to deserve her. For her to see him in the way he often found himself staring at in her? All that he really desired out of this war between evil and good was a thing not as relevant but even more direly important. _All I want is you to want me…for you to need me_


	4. Can You Believe Your Eyes?

Can You Believe Your Eyes?

(Chapter 4)

What could be more irritating, Ginny hovering over her face with Muggle plastics and empty attempts to create beauty upon her, or force upon her, or how often she stitched her nerves back together when she speculated about the audience waiting down stairs? An audience of two eyes and one head of red hair, though enough audience to drive Hermoine insane.

"Would you sit still?" Ginny commanded impatiently. Hermoine froze indefinitely at her friend's plea but knew she couldn't keep the promise long as she once again had compelling urge to bite her lip in sheer anxiety; lips preoccupied with Ginny's prodding of lipstick.

"Okay, you can wail all you want. I'm done." With her tone, Ginny made it very apparent that she didn't enjoy the chore much either and perhaps—probably even less so. But however painstakingly it stole from them both; Ginny couldn't resist a smile as it tugged relentlessly at the corners of her lips as she gazed upon a glorious Hermoine. Even the restless Hermoine found herself slightly pleasing in the mirror, hardly amazing though, she also thought, at her appearance, leaving her inevitably eager with the expectation if the youngest Weasley boy might find it otherwise.

"Well, don't just sit there, I think someone else would like a turn to stare too…" Hermoine ignored her smirk and disappeared out of her room and danced carefully down the unsteady stairs. The daring, dashing Hermoine Granger withstood Trolls, Death Eaters, and Polly Juice but could she endure the difficult task of walking down the ever-increasing number of steps without tripping over her enthusiasm? During her moment of immature yet blissful naivety, Hermoine allowed herself a small nervous smile to play along her face as well in her step.

With an imposter cousin, Ron stood at the entrance conversing quietly with Barney, or more accurately, Harry, about the repulsive and obnoxious Aunt Muriel. Ron stopped in mid-sentence.

"Wow." Was all Ron could muster to find eligible and give his true thoughts justice. _The first time you looked at her curves you were hooked and the glances you took and took hold of you and demanded that you stay and sunk in their teeth bit you hard and released such a charge that you need…_

"You look great!" An understatement of the year, king of the understatements, Ronald Weasley, reprimanded to himself quietly.

"Always the tone of surprises," Hermione replied with a smile, "Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree…"

Hermoine explained to Ron and his cousin how Aunt Muriel so willingly observed her cursed skinny ankles and poor posture as Ron cursed his Aunt for her poor eyesight. Assuring Hermoine his Aunt had no idea close to the neighborhood of what she was talking about, Ron allowed his eyes to wonder over Hermoine's figure discreetly and admiringly. He swallowed. George supported Ron's argument while mentioning an Uncle Bilius and his ability to ignite laughter and joy if ever Aunt Muriel's presence infested a celebration.

"…Pulling bunches of roses out of his—" Fred also jibed in making everyone explode in uncontrollable chuckles until a new guest arrived, interrupting especially Ron and Hermoine's side aching laughter as they stood dangerously close and holding each other for support.

"Viktor!" Hermoine exclaimed in shock and to Ron's comfort not in delight. Fire detonated in Ron's ears and even the hesitant Hermoine could feel the heat from them as she greeted Viktor Krum appropriately with a brief, unsubstantial embrace. Immediately, Ron scrutinized his presence.

"How come you're here?" With the opposite politeness of Hermoine's greeting, Ron spat. An invitation was revealed instantly and a growl followed it from Ron's chest.

_We'll just see would gets to dance with her, tonight, _Ron thought, bitterly vowing his indifference to the bane of his existence in human form.

In crucial attempt to maintain his vow, Ron quickly responded to Krum's question concerning Luna's father and hastily added an instruction disguised as an offer to Hermoine.

"Come and dance." Ron offered, using as few words as possible as to not sound like a bumbling baboon, not to few so she could refuse, and not in so many as to allow Ron to abruptly chicken out. Hermoine seemed just as shocked as everyone else crowding the table but agreed nonetheless and again attempting not to trip over her enthusiasm has he lead her to dancing floor. She really had to educate herself in how to cage her malicious and childish eagerness every moment Ron stepped closer. Pondering whether some wizards had ever written a book on such obvious excitement toward red head boys, Hermoine grasped Ron's quivering offered hand in her own sweaty one.

_Impeccably poor timing, Ronald Weasley,_ Ron thought to himself, as the wedding band began a slow and seductive song. However, as Hermoine inched closer to him, he concluded maybe he didn't mind it so much as her warmth charged every nerve to its end. His head and ears an oven while is hands and feet a faucet, Ron focused his attention directly on the glorious creature within his grasp finally. His hand melting into the curve of her back, Ron rested his chin slight on her glowing head that effortlessly rested against his hammering heart. He was sure it would burst out of its prison and injure Hermoine in the eye at any moment with its merciless pounding against the bars of his rib cage. His mind blared caution for such grand vulnerability. _She just might get you lost and she just might leave you torn. _Voice of unrequited reason, his heart gave assurance._ But she just might save your soul if she gets you any closer._

Thankfully and regrettably, the song soon sped up into and upbeat tempo allowing Hermoine's clock to cease its momentary lapse of control. When Ron spinned her, she wished he continued to do so endlessly so she could return again close in his grip. Can she really believe that he could finally—possibly return her incessant feelings that screamed out of her every well-cleansed pore's? Can she believe this Ronald Weasley before her was real? _Can you believe your eyes?_

When Hermoine felt faint from all the spinning, she found refuge back at their table where Barney, Harry sat alone.

"I simply can't dance anymore," Hermione announced. What had it been, how long had they danced? An hour at the least. Hermoine continued to talk but Barney, Harry, continued not to listen. Something or someone bothered his thoughts. As if something mirrored Harry's disturbed contemplation, a patronus appeared and clearly voiced a frightening announcement to the wedding guests.

"The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

They had to act quickly as panic slowly escalated into blurred chaos. She had Harry and a plan, if a situation such as this was too occur, but Ron's place next to her remained vacant. All she knew she could do to prevent a panic meltdown of her own, she screamed his name desperately.

Taking an innocent sip of his cool butter beer and swallowing the memory of Hermione in his arms a few minutes ago, Ron held tightly to the goblets suddenly noticing the chaos encompassing the white tent. Then he heard his name and that voice he so often heard in his dreams and in arguments. The desperation of the voice caused him to react; he dropped the glasses and darted rapidly to Hermoine's side. Absolute relief appeared on her features as he appeared with his arm firmly around her. She glanced briefly at Ron's reassuring eyes. _Don't blink, everyone's watching they'll think you're up to something .They need for you to be everything that they cannot be themselves._

He believed in her, he knew she would have a plan all along. Then they disappeared.


	5. Excellent at Exhaling

Excellent at Exhaling

(Chapter 5)

What looked like some sorts of incredible pain painting Harry's face, he suddenly darted to the bathroom down the hall in their new safe residence, Grimmauld Place after narrowly escaping more death eaters and Severus Snap intended jinxes. Ron and Hermione watched his image disappear, leaving them alone. Digging his hands into his pockets, Ron turned away from Harry's trail and gazed expectantly at Hermione who now discovered something incredibly intriguing upon her hands. He mustered up a most cordial and encouraging smile he could find buried beneath his fear and anxiety.

"I wouldn't mind sleeping with you—no I mean, uh…yea, you can stay here with me—us, I mean…yea, we should start setting up camp then, huh?" Ron stuttered helplessly as his attempted grin turned to an embarrassed blush. Hermione replied with a tiny smile and silently agreed with his plan. Pulling forth sleeping bags from her bottomless bag, Hermione distracted herself with that task while Ron hovered awaiting for her to magically reappear their pajamas. When all sleeping bags and pajamas finally made their way out of the bag with Hermione's "Accio" flick, Ron noticed something wet glimmer quietly in Hermione's chocolate eyes he so often craved to immerse himself in.

"Oh," Ron uttered, "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Oh nothing," Hermione replied, swiping away the tears on her cheeks. "I'm just glad everyone's all right. I was afraid that I…" Her voice drifted.

"Hermione…" Ron began, but Hermione wouldn't catch his supportive stare so he placed his hand gently on her elbow to draw those enthralling eyes into his.

"Hermione, you know you couldn't have done anything to prevent if anyone got hurt back there. If anything, it would be my fault for leaving your side. You… You were…whole lot more than I have in words. I don't think Harry still be alive without you. Much less me. But I'm not as important." He sealed the deal with his grin. Instead of decreasing her eye's hydration, it only seemed to cause it to fall faster, diving off her nervous, smiling lips. Still, even with his winning speech, he knew it still wouldn't do to show how fully he appreciated her. _How could she have so little faith in herself? How can I show her, how much faith everyone has in her? How much faith I have in her?_

When Hermione paid little heed, Ron busied himself with a scratch to the head while speculating their sleeping arrangements. Then, Ron, received revelation. Stealing the cushions off the couch, Ron placed them carefully on the aged and lumpy floor, taking her sleeping bag and placing it atop them.

"Oh, Ron, I can't—" Hermione started but Ron finished.

"Oh, yes you can. You deserve at least this much, after today and everything else… uh… and for just being Hermione, I guess. That and the only girl so you have to be treated better a little..." He could feel his ears preparing for take off. Grateful, Hermione fiddled temporarily with the pajamas she still held as she smiled at Ron's blush. Abruptly, she closed the few feet distance to a few inches in fewer seconds then Ron could fathom. She slid her arms delicately around his neck and melted her cheek into his chest just beneath his quivering chin.

"Thank you, Ron." Hermione mumbled into his shirt. Suddenly breathing became unnecessary and improper and all knowledge of how to practice such a taxing task flew out the window with what little sanity Ron still attained. He refused to allow his lungs to speak so not to miss a single murmur of Hermione's even exhales.

"I should give Harry his things," Hermione announced as she backed away from Ron and out of the room.

Ron exhaled finally. _I'm talented at breathing especially exhaling._ Pain lingered in his lungs for depriving of them of their purpose but the ache was a insignificant price to pay. He concluded to change in Hermione's absence, removing his pants first then his shirt. Jumping into his pajama bottoms, Ron then fumbled with his hand-me-down shirt that contained enough holes to keep Ron confused on which hole belonged to which appendage until Hermione reappeared. A half naked, halfwit stood before her in all his glory as Hermione stared, dazed at how well Quidditch chiseled him. Embarrassed, Hermione turned away and mumbled an apology though indeed she felt little regret at all.

"I'm sorry, if I blinded you…" Ron teased nervously.

"No, no, no… You're fine." Hermione assured, turning around once again to face him. Holes betrayed still as they revealed part of what lay beneath his shirt. _Yes, very fine._ Recovering slightly, Hermione then stated: "So now if you don't mind…" and gestured for him to turn around. He obeyed.

Retreating to the window, Ron examined the faded paint on the windowsill intently. He began picking at the loose clumps of pain nervously after he realized what the window really revealed. Ron prevented his eyes to wander toward the reflection of Hermione's undressing figure. He ached to know whether she looked as perfect as she felt under his hands when they danced so intimately at the wedding. _I should have just left the room! Imbecile!_

But since his love and respect deepened further than mere boyish fantasies, he lowered his eyes and temptation. Maybe that would make him a man yet.

Hermione gave consent for him to face her once again. After a few moments of aimless shuffling around the invisible mulberry bush, they unanimously decided to surrender to their protesting eyelids. Relieved to notice Ron's bed next to her own, Hermione slid into her royal chamber of quilts and blankets she probably didn't need but didn't see the need to complain about them. Because Ron insisted. At first, she faced Ron on her side with her hands tucked neatly beneath her uncombed hair then with a quick goodnight rotated to her other side. At first, Ron resolved to follow her suit but found it impossible to mobilize away from the scene of her erotic figure beneath her delicate nightgown rise and fall with her breathing. No, he decided, he would continue to drink in her nearness as he inched silently closer to see if he could steal a scent of her hair. _Oh, you're so sure I'll be leaving in the end treating me like I'm already gone but I'm not. _He recalled his promise about refusing to let her leave or be away from his side even if her more responsive side was concealed. _I will stay where you are always, I will stay, I will stay._

Not until later hours of the evening, when nightmares seized Hermione, did she rotate herself back to face Ron, finding remarkable comfort in his docile features as he slept. Almost surrendering to the overwhelming urge to run her fingers in his sweet tomato hair, she stopped herself and lay her hand close to his, resolving that that would do temporarily to satisfy her crave for his touch.

_I'm careful not to wake you fearing conversation. It's better just to hold you and keep you pacified._

She closed her eyes again but only to open them again when she felt a warm hand slide perfectly into hers. Though eyes still closed, Ron smiled.

_I will stay_


	6. So This Is Odd

So This Is Odd

(Chapter 6)

Ron was restless. Hermione couldn't deny it or give excuses for it. Of the three that experienced all that they had endured, Ron took it the hardest and it showed in his wrinkled forehead when he glared at yet another mushroom dinner. Ron's constant grumpy demeanor wholly disturbed and puzzled Hermione. _This ruined puzzle is beige with the pieces all face down so the placing goes slowly, the pictures of anything other than it's meant to be. But the hours they creep the patterns repeat…_

_What was wrong with him? Was I annoying him? Has he realized I'm not pretty or smart enough for him? His temper always edged closer to explosion but still words went unsaid. What was I doing wrong? I'm thinking awful things. We weren't even arguing. I'm pretty sure that few would notice. I would be satisfied with that much as long I could see something other than intolerance in his eyes. And this apartment _

_is starving for an argument, anything at all to break the silence_

Clueless and heartless Harry Potter still hadn't found any more clues or anything in that relative area about the Horcuxes. All he resolved in completing was stealing Hermione from him. Often considering to discuss or at the least arguing this accusation with Hermione, Ron nevertheless resided stationary in his explanation of his behavior. Not that she executed much to clarify or deny her behavior either.

_I would never do_

_Never_

Like in those Muggle comic books Harry once showed him, where the hero of the story always got the girl in the end, Ron feared the same scenario for his own, though less comical and colorful, situation. What did he, the sidekick, receive, if not the girl? _Does he ever get the girl?_

_Could I really compete to the Boy Who Lived?_ No, he could not and certainly would not try. The sudden epiphany shot deep and painfully into his veins splintering his heart; its pain unbearable and unthinkable to contain. So all his hurt boiling and stirring in him beneath the heavy locket spilt out of his mouth like he was vomiting nails; sharp and fatal nails with teeth and teeth with venom enough to wrench even dark wizards to their knees.

"Yeah, you're right!" Harry exclaimed as Hermione and he concocted a revelation. "So, would he have hidden the sword well away from Hogsmeade, then? What do you reckon, Ron? Ron?"

The unbearable weight of raging anger upon Ron's chest forced him to surrender to one of the lower bunks in hopes of dousing his anger.

"Oh, remembered me, have you?" Ron opened the floodgates withholding his nails stirring in his stomach and chest.

"You two carry on. Don't let me spoil your fun."

"What's the problem?" Harry asked.

"Problem? There's no problem… Not according to you anyway."

"Well, you've obviously got a problem. Spit it out, will you?"

_Now that I have your permission,_ Ron thought bitterly.

"All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."

Harry was stealing Hermione from him, Ron's girl and Ron had to stab him until he bled and maybe then, and only then would Harry feel what he felt right at that moment. Betrayal. The locket throbbed that word into his soul and out his tongue.

"I don't know? I don't know?" Harry's voice sharpened.

"It's not like I'm not having the time of my life here, you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running around a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."

"Ron…" Hermoine interjected weakly. _What was wrong with him?_

"I thought you knew what you'd signed up for?" Harry spat back.

"Yeah, I thought I did too."

"So what part of it isn't living up to your expectations? Did you think we'd be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you'd be back to Mummy by Christmas?"

"We thought you knew what you were doing! We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"

"Ron!" Hermione cried, her voice still quivering even at a higher volume.

"Well, sorry to let you down. I've been straight with you from the start, I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven't noticed, we've found one Horcrux—"

"Yeah, and we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them— nowhere effing near, in other words!"

"Take off the locket, Ron, please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day." Hermione suggested trying to hide the desperation in her voice but Harry interrupted.

"Yeah, he would. Do you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? Do you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?"

"Harry, we weren't—" Hermione attempted again her voice still as fragile and preparing to break at any moment.

That finished it there, Hermoine defending the hero, Harry Potter; that sealed Ron's coffin there. It was one thing if Harry was stealing Hermione from him but for her to run willingly into his arms? Could anything hurt anymore that? Just when there was nothing left of him to ache, something became very cold under his left side of his chest. So what if the locket made him angry, Hermione made him break. Hermione was all he wanted in living and suddenly there was nothing to live for.

"Don't lie!" Ron screamed into the culprit of his entire existence's undoing. _Don't be a liar don't say that "everything's working" when everything's broken._ "You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than—"

"I didn't say it like that— Harry I didn't!" Hermione could feel tears knocking on her brown doors. _What was wrong with Ron? If he would just take off that locket…_

"So why are you still here?" Harry asked.

"Search me."

"Go home then."

"Yeah, maybe I will! Didn't you hear what they said about my sister? But you don't give a rat's fart, do you?"

It continued with both young wizards' anger burners on the highest notch.

"Then, GO! Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergoit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and—"

Hermione reacted just in time to protect Harry and Ron from their stupidity when they threatened each other with their wands. Clenched so tightly, Ron's jaw almost snapped while glaring viciously at Harry with every bit of venom he had left.

"Leave the Horcrux."

Automatically pulling the smoldering chain fiercely from around his neck, Ron instantly felt the anger find bay but his heart continued to ache, only beating because of the throbbing. Facing Hermione's wet eyes, Ron felt no anger or rage only felt…broken. Beyond "reparo" from any grand wizard. Every part of Ron's heart rested in brokenness in his hands. Resting in their defeat.

_So this is odd, the painful realization that all has gone wrong and nobody cares at all. _

_Nobody cares at all._

Hermione's insides, outsides, and everything that had anything remaining to give, screamed so deafeningly it could never reach human ears. If human ears couldn't hear it, human eyes could see it and how it began destruction within her. What was he doing to her? _This is incredible, starving, insatiable._ Destroying me with those eyes so broken._ Yes, this is love for the first time._

If this is the result of love to those who braved perseverance and odds for its presence, Ron wanted no part of it any longer because if he stood there any longer he was sure to collapse into bits.

"What are you doing?" He asked Hermione but she only stood and stared.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you staying or what?"

As if her arms were being torn from both sides, she stared, torn, on what he had just asked her.

"I…"

_I love you. I want you to stay. _

"…Yes, yes, I'm staying, Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we'd said we help—"

"I…"

_I loved you. More than you could ever possible know. _

"…I get it. You choose him."

Swiftly removing Hermione's protection charm from himself, he left.

Horrific storm clouds allowed rain to fall from Ron's sea eyes as he stole one last desperate glance at Hermione before leaving the tent, perhaps forever leaving their lives. Days ago, centuries now, he believed he could be that shield and shelter for Hermione but had disregarded thought of armoring his own heart. _I told you she might just get you lost and leave you torn._ _Well you'd like to think that you were invincible. _What a silly stupid boy._ Yeah, well, weren't we all once before we felt loss for the first time?_

_Well this is the last time._

Hermione's silent screams only lost themselves in his own. Out of the tent and into the weather that sung the soundtrack to Hermione's emotions. Rhyming wonderfully with Ron's own personal rain, the sky's spit felt like pins and needles on Ron's unsheltered head as Hermione helplessly watched his figure dissolve.

Anger rattled her heart's pieces at her feet.

"Ron! No, please, come back, come back! RON!" Outside the tent, she fell to her knees, losing sight of Ron in the steel sheet curtains of rain.

"Oh, Ron, Ron, Ron…Ron! RON! RONALD WEASELY COME BACK! You said you'd stay! Don't leave! Don't leave us! PLEASE RON, DON'T LEAVE ME! Don't leave me…

He dissapparated.

_This is the last time. _Hermione surrendered to shattering sobs. "Ron, I love you…"

Sure she could say it aloud when she knew she might never see him again. Sure she could admit aloud now that no one could hear it. Yes, she admitted it out loud even if the only ears hearing were the weeping clouds. They didn't seem to care, but they resumed their moaning sobs as if they understood. She said it aloud for the first time.

_This is the last time._

"Ron…please…"

Resentment and hurt stirred and scarred her everything but remained insignificant to the agony in her greater portion. She watched that part of her that hurt the most tare away from her. She continued her retreat in silent agony loudly every night without him. She drowned herself in his scent with the blankets Harry placed over her. She tried for anger, begged it to rule, even denial but to no avail.

_Don't be concerned you know I'll be fine on my own. I never said don't go._

But, in the final match up, anger fell for the count as brokenness stood victorious.

_Don't go._


	7. Buried Alive

Buried Alive

(Chapter 7)

_This basement's a coffin I'm buried alive. I'll die in here just to be safe. 'Cause you're gone and I get nothing._

Fulfill her promise to Harry. Destroy the Horcruxes and Voldemort. Such tasks paled in comparison to the immensely more difficult task of destroying any memory of Ron.

_And you're off with barely a sigh._

Difficult?

No.

_I never said Good-bye._

Impossible.

_Good-bye_


	8. Back Where I Belong

A/N: Cheers, lads and ladies, thanks so much for your reviews and read. I apologize for the leaving you hanging on chapter six but I was growing wary and wordless with chapter seven and eight. Here they are now. Wary lacked and not a word held back. Don't hesitate with any suggestions or comments. I welcome them with open arms.

I only aim to please,

Your servant and thief

Back Where I Belong

(Chapter 8)

A silver doe, ghostly and galloping away, lifted Ron's spirits for the first time in many, many days. After hearing Hermione's screams still shaking his lifeless and cold core as he disappeared, Ron knew he had to return to them, Hermione, right then. Right now. Hearing those cries knife through the rain, those cries crying out his name, and those cries of his own eyes, should have twisted him around right then and drive him back to Hermione.

_I have to go back. Right now._

_Foolish king, ruler over all mistakes and missing words and misplaced steps, when will you step down from your shameful thrown of pride and stupidity? _Then he was captured.

With the hope of renewing his friendship with Harry again and holding Hermione again was enough determination to tare down any tyranny ruling his heart, enough to dethrone himself from his forlorn reign of idiocy. It also seemed just enough to perform an escape act on his captors. Ron knew with this earth shattering determination built upon the foundation of finding Hermione again, nothing could withstand. _Take me back where I belong._

It seemed so easy to escape with that in toe. Away from the hands of his captors, the blasted snatchers, Ron immediately returned to forest not far from a Quidditch stadium only to find it vacant. Ron roared in rage at himself and packed a punch to an unsuspecting tree. His knuckles bled but he only clenched his hand until they turned white.

Arriving at Bill and Fleur's, Ron stole haven there until his red head had conjectured a plan, any plan other than one that involved being more than a hundred feet away from Hermione. And Harry of course.

But they could be anywhere.

Like a sudden savior, the deluminator became the solution. _Take me back to where I belong. _It not only provided and stole light but led him to it. Yet it still pilfered numerous excruciating days of waiting and following and not finding.

Then, like the slow spinning redemption had loped into his life, that gray, silky shadow of a female deer led him to Harry. Where there was Harry there Hermione would also be, or at least close by. For the first time in many, many days, weeks, blood finally was allowed to his hands. He released his hands from a death grip and a sigh from his colorless lips. Harry would take him back. _Back where I belong._

_xxxxxxxx_

"Are—you—mental?" Ron asked, disregarding the sharp icy water saturating his clothing.

His once colorless lips turned to a soft shade of blue. Clenching a sword in one hand and a locket in the other, he talked to Harry while Ron's eyes begged for forgiveness. Although he had just saved his friends life, it did not seem like it was fairly close to enough. Nevertheless, after a few moments of silent gratitude for each other's companionship once again, Harry insisted, that he, Ron, stab the blasted Horcrux and after a few moments of debating whether he should or not, he now clenched the Gryffindor sword tightly.

Ron's breath stopped short and his heart plummeted to his feet.

What did Ronald Weasley fear most?

His mother disowning him…a friend forever overshadowing…or losing a love to someone who more possibly more deserved it?

His worst fears flaunted and haunted before his eyes. His mother, his best friend, and…

_Hermione. _

_Hermione, don't choose him! _

_I've loved you more than he ever would!_

"Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him…."

_No, no, no, no, not Hermione. NO, NO! Hermione, I LOVE YOU! CHOOSE ME! HERMIONE! CHOOSE ME!_

_HERMIONE!_

"Do it, Ron!" Harry's voice broke through the scene. Ron stirred inside, realizing what he was watching was not real. So, he focused on a different scene, inwardly, something real.

Yes, something real. What was more real to him?

His hand in hers.

His heart inches from hers.

His breath sharing hers.

His promise to her….

_I will not bend and I will not break._

I will stay

He placed another deathblow, plunging the sword into heart of the locket.

Water found exit in Ron's eyes, as he stared, unseeing, at the powerless locket. Tremors unavoidably entered beneath his skin, commencing a catastrophic earthquake inside of him, bringing him to his knees. Ron had never screamed so loudly in his entire life so quietly. He was sure the veins in his neck would burst. Every part of him had screamed, his heart most of all, crying out her name. A name almost making him kill his best friend and himself do to the Horcrux's cruel manipulation. But that name also saved him. If he had failed to mute the locket's evil usage of his Hermione with his silent screams...

The wild throbbing reached his head forcing him to cradle it.

That awful locket creating his greatest fears and injecting them into his blood stream…

How come he screamed so deafeningly and yet still no one heard it?

The locket heard and it that was enough.

That scream shook him to his core, still shaking him as Harry placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. His blood ran so hotly in his veins making everything tremble so even Harry's voice resounded in and out like an old AM radio.

"…She cried for a week…probably longer…with you gone…I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me…I thought you knew…"

Changing lanes, from the fast to slow, his heart began a steady pattern of throbbing. He allowed himself a small breath.

_Hermione did not choose Harry._

The endless current of tears subsided and Ron continued to allow more air to his lungs. He blinked his blood-shot eyes.

"I'm sorry." Ron uttered after recovering his voice.

"I'm sorry I left. I know I was a…a…"

There wasn't a word to describe his inexcusable behavior. No word was ever invented. Those people who invented words, they never fathomed that such a person would ever exist.

"You've sort of made up for it tonight," said Harry, "Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life."

Ron recuperated strength back into his legs, enabling him to stand. Ashamed, Ron denied the honoring statement but Harry reinstated it.

Caging the past few moments of demoralization to the back of his head, Ron followed Harry back to the tent with the only conversation spoken by the snow being chewed beneath their shoes. Unintentional

Back where Hermione was.

_Back where I belong._


	9. Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned

Hath No Fury Like A Woman's Scorn

(Chapter 9)

_Come on back where you belong._

"I get it…you choose him…."

Hermione forced her eyes open. Another nightmare.

She hadn't slept in weeks. Sleep evaded her as well as good fortune. Harry and she were nearly killed a few days ago by Voldemort's pet snake. Things were not well. Attempting another futile stab at sleeping, Hermione closed her eyes. As vivid as if he leaned over her at that moment, there he stood, with his glorious red hair and awkward grin always parked on a slant on his cheeks.

"Hermione…"

She could almost smell him.

"Hermione…"

She could almost hear him.

"Hermione…" It was Harry, not Ron. Reluctantly and slowly opening her eyes again, Hermione glared at the ceiling as if it were the cause of her unhappy circumstances. She raised herself like someone long dead, though with her current condition that wouldn't be far from the truth, wiping away her untidy curls crowding her forehead and started a glare at a different subject matter. Quickly recollecting her bitterness bits, she rapidly turned concerned and asked if something had gone amiss.

"It's okay, everything things fine," Harry replied almost gleefully, "More than fine. I'm great. There's someone here." Harry couldn't resist allowing a little relief in his voice, knowing that Hermione wouldn't have to pretend to sleep at night anymore.

But Hermione remained incredulous. _Had Harry invited the local neighbors or talking woodland animals for afternoon tea? Who could be so important to risk…_

No, it wasn't the local neighbors or the forest creatures he made acquaintances with either.

One head of red hair and a pair of red ears accompanied him.

She had to be dreaming, or undergoing another vivid nightmare. But her eyes were unfastened from their curtains so there he stood.

Ron nearly leapt out of his skin.

She was alive and well and well, very upset at the moment. _But I'll take anything even a hundred arguments or bickering rows just as long as I could be here, a few mere feet from her._

She looked miserable but Ron was voluntarily blind to this since he believed that he never saw something so beautiful in his entire life. What could be more beautiful then Hermione resurrecting him from his vegetable state? _Though I punish myself _

_I will never settle the debts I've endured for scorning the face of absolute beauty, and measureless grace._

With little grace and beauty intended, Hermione glided effortlessly down from her bunk and carefully positioned impatient feet toward Ron. Left, right, left, right. Her face and thin line of lips failed to betray what lay in her thoughts as how to resolve this new obstacle of mixed emotions to overcome.

He chanced a tiny grin, parking it on a slope. Oh, how he wished that maybe, impossibly, she came to engross her arms around his neck and mold perfectly in his grasp and whisper his name again and again and again in his ear, whispering how much she missed him.

Hermione maintained her impenetrable face as her emotions danced circles.

_Oh, Ron. I can't believe you're okay. I can't believe you're okay… I am so glad you're okay... I am so glad you didn't get hurt or worse…killed…_

_I swear I'll kill you for leaving. I swear I'll kill you for tearing me apart. I swear I'll kill you if you leave me again…I swear…_

Illegible expressions still clouded her intentions until they became painfully evident. She began pounding her fists into his hard Quidditch Keeper body with all the anger she had and all the strength she had left to resist kissing him in utter and dire relief.

_Ron, Ron, Ron, I am so glad you're okay._

"Ronald Weasley you arse!" If she had the tongue for swearing, she would have shrieked every single one invented but her tongue was designated for informing and knowing not swearing, making any curse sound more like a blessing.

Bloody hell, she packs a punch. Ron winced at every one of Hermione's deliberate and powerful blows, hardly attempting to protect himself. Though allowing each blow to find home on his ribs, Ron found himself slightly surprised at Hermione's reaction even if he recognized he merited worse. He expected yelling, probably, but punching, improbably but apparently not impossibly.

_Okay, Hermione this is really starting to hurt._

_I hope this hurts Ron. I hope you feel HALF of what I felt, you…you…you—you!_

"You," punch, "crawl," punch, "back here," hard punch, "after weeks and weeks…" a double hook with her left fist then her right. "Where's my wand?"

_No, not those birds again. _

Hermione altered her assault from Ron to Harry, scraping for her wand. Out of sheer fear for himself and Ron, Harry immediately cast a protection spell. Rebounding off the shield and upon the floor, Hermione seethed with steam.

_Harry doesn't know what really was like with Ron gone! HE didn't cry for him every night, he didn't follow him into the rain! If he did, he'd want to kill him too!_

"Hermione! Calm—"

"Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!"

Motionless, Ron stared at Hermione, or what appeared to be Hermione. He had never seen this side of Hermione, nor, he realized, did he ever fancy to. After a few more screeches at Harry, Hermione readjusted her focus once again upon Ron with a feverish stab of her finger in his direction.

"And YOU!" _Broke me into oblivion! I didn't think you were ever coming back! Even though every part me wanted you to!_

All the rage and all the spite and all the resentment Hermione stored away when her defeat had overcome her had finally brushed the dust off and resurfaced.

Defeat?

No. Not to any further extent.

Just a woman's unequivocal fury.

"I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back!" _I said aloud things I swore I never would!_

"I know," Ron squeaked as stole a few unstable steps away from the lethal Hermione, "Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really—"

_Oh, he said my name. How I dreamed about his voice saying my name again… _

"Oh, you're sorry!" _Sorry? SORRY? Sorry doesn't give me back all those days without Ron!_

The crazed emotions and collided feelings warped insanely in every opposite direction inside Hermione, morphing anger, relief, and love into an uncontainable emotion of different sorts. Laughter. Chilling laughter. She found it maddeningly humorous that Ron could have ever experienced the same misery she had the pleasure of keeping company. _Ignorant selfish prat! Ridiculous! _

"You come back after weeks, WEEKS, and you thing its all going to be all right if you just say sorry?"

Narrowed eyes, Ron stared at Hermione incredulous that she had not an inkling of an idea of what he went through without them, without her. No, there was no likelihood she could have ever experienced the same misery he had the pleasure of keeping company. _Stubborn bossy know-it-all! Unbelievable!_

"Well, what else can I say?" Ron spat back, realizing that she couldn't begin to pretend to know what it was like, and the countless bruises on his knuckles and dried blood crusted upon them gave proof.

"Oh, I don't know, rack your brains, Ron, that should take a couple of seconds!"

_There is no way in this world, Ronald Weasley. No way in this world, in the previous, or the next, could you possibly understand what it feels like to be…ABANDONED! And the PAIN? Not the kind from a measly splinching accident but a breaking unlike any other._

"Hermione," Harry attempted to commend his friend, "he saved—"

"I don't care_!" He could have saved Harry Potter's life for all I care but it wont make up for him just about killing me!_ "I don't care what he's done! Weeks and weeks, we could have been DEAD for all he knew—"

_I was dead. And why does she keep saying weeks and weeks? Doesn't she know I counted every second? Does she know that everyday I came up empty handed without her hands in them I swore to every creature and object and anything holding witness how I would make up for every minute I wasn't there, beside them, beside her? I was away for a while but I'm hoping someday you'll forgive me though I don't deserve it. I'll cherish it well if you give me one of your new starts just one more last chance. I swear that I'll earn it, if you front me for now. I'm good for it I swear, I'm better now I swear._

"I knew you weren't dead!" Ron screamed in return, his eyes desperate to make contact with Hermione's. He longed to plead to them and hold home there. Feeling his courage seep back into his legs, Ron inched, as close to Hermione as Harry's shield charm would allow, taking offense for the first time since their arrival. Frantically explaining what had occurred, Ron's tone found a stepping stool and raised itself to Hermione's height and strength.

"…you don't know what its been like—"

_WHAT?_

"What it's been like for YOU?" Her voice misplaced its humor and echoed shrilly through the air, reaching even the deafest dog.

_Ron could not have possibly…could he? Maybe but could he…have suffered as much as I have… for the same reason…? Goodness, how wonderful would that be? Then maybe I would find a somewhat modest and decent excuse to remove this ridiculous shield charm and run to him and…_

With the sudden given space of speech, Ron recovered his opportunity to retrieve redemption.

_I would make her understand even if it killed me or even if it made her kill me…_

"I wanted to come back the minute I'd Disapparated." Ron relayed rapidly, his words bleeding into one another, making them nearly impossible to comprehend. "But I walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione, and I couldn't go anywhere!"

Harry dared another entrance into the conversation but held Hermione's wand firmly in hand in case something else exploded other than Hermione's temper.

"A gang of what?"

_I don't believe this, Harry._ Hermione pouted in a chair, tightening an iron clawed grip on herself, attempting self-control of her wildly varied and unsorted emotions. She couldn't tell whether she gripped herself so tightly because she was afraid of assaulting Ron again or assaulting him in whole new, unheard of way.

Continuing to explain his inconvenient encounter with Snatchers, Ron's voice darted in so many directions Harry could hardly catch them. But Ron's eyes remained firm on the statue of Hermione Granger. When his sad attempt to make Hermione laugh left him empty handed still, he returned his divided attention to Harry again. He tried to keep the story short and not so sweet but could barely evade the urges to tell tale of the little details like the seconds he counted, the memories that kept him moving, and the images—goodness the picture perfect images of the good times with his best mate Harry but conveniently, a greater portion of the images, compelling him toward success and nothing but, were of Hermione.

_I wasn't well for a while. I savored the things that I knew were sure to destroy me and that seemed to hold me that seemed to carry me where I couldn't go on the strength of my own. Well, I should've known that gets me nowhere. I've learned that now I swear._

"Gosh, what a gripping story." Hermione commented, uncaring whether or not her words found mark or made mark. "You must have been simply terrified. Meanwhile we went to Godric's Hollow and, lets think what happened there, Harry? Oh yes, You-Know-Who's snake turned up, it nearly killed both of us, and then You-Know-Who himself arrived and missed us by about a second."

Inwardly, Ron groaned.

"What?"

"Imaging losing fingernails, Harry! That really puts our sufferings into perspective, doesn't it?"

"Hermione, Ron he just saved my life."

_So what if he still attained that "Gryffindor bravery" I came to know and love so well over the last few months. He was brave enough to save Harry but not "brave" enough to stay when I begged him to. _

"One thing I would like to know, though, how exactly did you find us tonight? That's important. Once we know, we'll be able to make sure we're not visited by anyone else we don't want to see."

She refused to look him in the eye while Ron distilled his glare on the spot between her coffee eyes. Neither wanted their eyes to meet, afraid of what they might reveal. Automatically exposing his redeemer, Ron aimed to explain the deluminator's other functions. Curiosity overtook her temper as Hermione strained to observe the miracle in a look-alike Muggle cigarette lighter.

"The Deluminator?" Hermione asked before she realized she was supposed to be begrudging Ron. The chains straggling Hermione's posture suddenly crumbled away as she listened to Ron enlighten, no pun intended, them on the situation in which assisted him in finding Harry and Hermione once more.

"…I was listening to the radio early Christmas morning and I heard…I heard you." Ron's voice softened as he reminisced on that morning. He had thought for sure he was just three seconds away from pure insanity, thinking hallucinations of Hermione would also soon haunt him.

Her eyes almost met his. Her eyes drifted fleetingly on his blue tides, wondering if he was relaying the truth or full of her mother's favorite Oscar Meyer Weiner bologna.

"You heard me on the radio?"

"No, I heard you coming out of my pocket." Surely they would admit him into an asylum now, so he hastily continued. "Your voice came out of this."

"And what exactly did I say?" Hermione questioned skeptically, questioning Ron's credibility but secretly dying of curiosity.

"My name. Ron. And you said…something about a wand…"

A ruby blush clotted her every pore inhabiting her face. Yes, she remembered that day well. The first time she dared in saying his name aloud. His name had been worn from treatment on Hermione's tongue after shouting it so endlessly and loudly that night in the rain that she dared not to speak it again in case of its previous effect to occur again. How come the first time she said his name in weeks did Ron happen to hear it, thousands of miles away? _That's just my luck. He probably laughed._

_I nearly cried when I heard it. _

"So I took it out," Ron resumed, "and it didn't seem different or anything, but I was sure I'd heard you. So I clicked it. And the light went out in my room, but another light appeared right outside the window."

Harry and Hermione stared at Ron's invisible scene he began to illustrate.

"Your protective spells work, anyway, because I couldn't see you and I couldn't hear you. I was sure you were around, though, so in the end I got in my sleeping bag and waited for one of you to appear. I thought you'd have to show yourselves when you packed up the tent."

_And to think he was so close all this time!_ Hermione almost felt the aftertaste of guilt on the back of her tongue. Almost.

"We've been dissaparating under the invisible cloak…" Hermione explained with a wrathless pitch. Ron continued with his savior clutched snugly in his fingers.

"…I still couldn't see you, so I just had to hope one of you would show yourselves in the end—and Harry did. Well, I saw the doe first, obviously."

The woman's scorn returned from its holiday.

"You saw the what?"

"A doe, a female dear." Ron replied lyrically. Harry enlisted with Ron in describing the rest of the past few hours' events.

"Yes, the doe lead me to a pool or pond or something."

"I followed."

"Then I saw the sword."

"The Gryffindor sword."

"Well, how many swords have we been looking for, Ron? Of course it was the Gryffindor sword."

"But it must have been a Patronus!" Hermione exclaimed. "Couldn't you see who was casting it? Didn't you see anyone and it led you to the sword! Then what happened?"

"Then I jumped into the pond."

"And I followed."

"Yeah, I really didn't think much about taking the locket off first."

"Mental."

"Then Ron jumped in and saved me."

"Wasn't too hard, Harry doesn't eat much you see."

"And didn't only save me. He got the sword too."

"That water was bloody cold."

"He managed to get hold of the locket off my neck too."

"That nearly drowned you."

"And Ron stabbed it with the sword—"

"And it went? Just like that?" Hermione asked with an unusual hushed tone. Maybe she had lost her voice after all that ranting.

"Well, it…screamed." Harry withheld the unnecessary information for Ron's sake. Bowed, Ron's head began to throb again with the recollection of the locket's "scream" and his own scream. His stomach suddenly cringed with uneasiness.

"Here." Harry tossed the locket to Hermione whose appendages now lay unbound. Glaring at the locket, Hermione teased the locket about in her hands. Ron wore this when he had his sudden outburst. Indifferent indefinitely, Hermione allowed the thought of the locket's participation in Ron's behavior creep up as a minor possibility.

While Hermione seemed somewhat tamed at the moment, Harry disengaged the protection charms and then asked Ron for the spare wand he so wittingly thieved.

Exhaustion overwhelmed Hermione. It stole a bundle of energy to tare Ron apart and now that his bunk would be filled once more, Hermione resolved in retrieving some of the sleep she had misplaced over the last few weeks. Without a word or cheek, Hermione retired to her bed.

_So he's back now. I guess I can start sleeping again. But don't let him think you've forgiven him. No, that's going to take a lot more than saving Harry Potter's life._

"About the best you could hope for, I think," Harry whispered to Ron, holding a wand anew to him.

"Yeah…" Ron agreed, suddenly irrevocably elated to be home even with Hermione's cold and unpleasant welcoming. "Could've been worse. Remember those birds she set on me?"

"I still haven't ruled it out," Hermione announced from her bunk. A slight grin slid quietly across Ron's cheeks, irresistibly. _Yes, maybe next time I'll use house-elves if he ever leaves me again._

_Honestly though Ron, I am really glad you're home._

_Hermione can set birds on me, meager and deserving punishment, indeed. But honestly I am really glad I'm home._


	10. End Of An Anchor

End of an Anchor

(Chapter 10)

_In earlier days, they'd persecute people they'd carry them off, and hobble their legs for lesser offenses, than how I have harmed you. _

"Thank you, Ron." Hermione whispered. "I'll take the first watch."

Ron glowed. Shaking his head, Harry soon retired to his bunk where Ron knew he'd find little sleep. When he was sure Harry's thoughts were impenetrable, Ron turned his wary glance to Hermione's location at the edge of the tent. Quietly grasping the "Tales of Beedle the Bard", Hermione stared absentmindedly into the daunting distance. Her delicate fingers began playing with the corner of the book, driving Ron mad. She always teased the edges of the books she read and he worshiped how it tortured him. Stealing a necessary long intake of air, Ron carefully ambled towards Hermione, careful not to disturb her conscious thought or unconscious effect on him.

"You look tired. Maybe I should take the first shift." Ron suggested timidly.

"I'm fine Ron, you can have the next watch." Hermione replied apparently still adding an ever so slightly bit of umbrage to her words. Unsatisfied, Ron gazed down at Hermione hoping she would break her staring contest with the invisible eyes and stare into his own.

"But I wanted it first. I've been looking forward to this watch all day. While you and Harry about Mr. Lovegood and the death eaters, I was worried about getting this watch first." Ron allowed himself a coy grin. Luring the corner of he lips to curl up, Hermione resisted a smile at Ron's comment. However resulted in responding shortly.

"Get some sleep, Ron. I don't feel like arguing right now." Hermione waited, Ron stayed.

_I'm not going anywhere Hermione._

_Why isn't he leaving? Doesn't he know how it is for me to concentrate on more pressing matters when he stands only inches away from me?__ 'Cause turning to you is like falling in love when you're ten._

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Hmm…I think I've heard that before."

Instinctively, Ron whimpered. _Hermione…_ He ached to assure her that it wasn't he who left her, but the imposter of himself, a man—a boy broken and wildly foolish. _Punish me. Hand me the rocks to help weigh me down and tether my legs with a cord tightly bound to the end of an anchor thrown into the sound and test me to see if I will rise against the worst that it can get. Well, I wasn't sure that I could but, I can. _

"Hermione, I'm sorry. It was more than me, you know, that locket didn't help much."

An unbecoming snort was all he received as response.

"You have to understand. You have to. It made things bigger than they really were, it took my greatest fears and made them a reality in my head…"

"What could be so bad that made you leave us?" _Make you leave me?_

Ron suddenly noticed he now had his posture change from standing to kneeling, giving him a better angle of Hermione's restless face. The exact position one would take for prayer or begging. Both of those options were not far from the truth. Hermione still refused to look at him, rapt distraughtly in her anxiety.

Words failed Ron. They tickled the back of his throat, mocking, teasing but never submitting. _Coward._

"I screamed at you, you know, even after you left." This didn't help Ron's emotional state any more than stabbing him in the stomach, twisting the knife several times then adding a cup of salt to the wound.

"That's why I wanted to come back. Right then. I'm sorry Hermione. Really am so sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'm better now, I promise. I swear. I'll never wear any locket or even look at one for as long as I live."

Gloriously igniting the stars from their dreary state of dimness, Hermione chuckled despite herself and despite Ron.

"I'm glad you have found an excuse not to wear a locket. I was worried you were enjoying wearing woman's jewelry."

"Well, I thought it matched well with my hair. Plus, I needed to find a new home for my emotions since my teaspoon has been overflowing lately."

They laughed quietly together, cautious not to wake Harry.

_If hadn't promised not to leave you, Hermione, I could die happy now, now that I've made you laugh, seen your smile. The world seems almost right tonight._

"You're still a prat."

"And you're probably right, as usual."

Silence entered the space between the beggar and the master of his absolution. After a minutes of a mutual hush, Hermione surrendered to her arduous curtains. Her guardian hadn't missed a beat as he surveyed her superb stubbornness he couldn't resist in doting. Ron watched has her body swayed with struggle between consciousness and sleep. Calmly standing, he gently picked Hermione up from the stool. He hoped he wouldn't wake her with her his misbehaving heart, drumming mercilessly and eternally trouncing. She was priceless porcelain so he was careful not to break her as he placed her in her bed. How perfectly, wholly flawless with all her flaws however few or many they may be, in comparison to his perfection of being imperfect in every one of his traits. How perfectly she fit in his arms as if his arms were only made to hold her. _These hands are meant only to hold you._ Unexpectedly, Hermione struggled to sit up but Ron gently lied her down again. _So stubborn! I adore it…_

"I have to…"

"Shh…" Ron assured, involuntarily massaging her shoulder. Hermione drifted in out of consciousness, mesmerized by Ron's soothing voice and touch. If she weren't on the edge of faint, surely she would tremble under his proximity.

Ron examined her tenderly. Her eyelids were now fastened. Tempted beyond belief to remain in that spot eternally, simply just watching Hermione sleep, Ron forced himself to stand. But finally words that he could not swallow any longer leapt for from his throat fortunately in a whisper.

"You're beautiful." He longingly observed her sleepy condition and her figure inhaling and exhaling seamlessly, so breathtaking even when just simply breathing.

"And you're still a prat." She mumbled as if she thought what he said was only in her dream.

He began walking away with a half smile painted perpetually on his cheeks as he stole guardsman at the entrance of the tent.

"Ron…" Hermione mumbled. Ron jumped but responded immediately.

"I'm here."

He noticed her head nod slightly on her pillow. Then silence.

No words, no rows, just silence, then she silently forgave him.

And silently he understood and silently he thanked her.

_I will rise against the worst that it can get. I wasn't sure that I could._

_But, I can._


	11. A Scream So Deafening

A/N: You great and faithful readers, I am in grand gratitude of you're reviews and encouragement. They are priceless to me and give me impeccable motivation. The next two chapters are from the same chapter in the Deathly Hallows but there was so much to be said in both the thoughts of Ron and Hermoine, I concluded to create two separate chapters. The last half of this chapter is of Ron and the next will be of Hermione.

A Scream So Deafening

(Chapter 11)

"Good, eh?" Ron radiated joyfully.

"Brilliant," Harry breathed staring at the radio that gave him a new found hope and encouragement.

"It's so brave of them," Hermione added with a sigh. "If they were found…"

"But did you hear what Fred said?" Harry asked, desperate for his friends to believe in the Deathly Hallows as much as he. "He's abroad! He's still looking for the wand. I knew it!"

"Harry—"

"Come on, Hermione why are you so determined not to admit it? Voldemort's after the Elder Wand?"

Ron yelped at Harry when he said his name.

"The name's Taboo!" Ron shouted, frantic.

A distinct crack was heard.

"I told you, Harry, I told you, we can't say it anymore. We've got to put that protection back around us, quickly, it's how they find…"

Hauntingly spinning harshly on the table before the trio, the sneakoscope announced that they were no longer alone as nearing voices clarified it.

The lamps became distinguished to Ron's credit. But a rough and cruel voice rang through the darkness nonetheless.

"Come out of there with your hands up! We know you're in there! You've got a half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Get off HER!" Ron shouted but received a blow to his right ribs in his attempt to protect Hermione from the snatchers filthy hands. He crumbled to his knees, every wind and breeze stolen from him. Hermione screamed.

_Oh, no please not Ron. They can have me._

_I swear if they lay… _Ron choked for air as someone kicked him in his remaining unbroken ribs…_ If they hurt Harry… or Hermione… God no, not Hermione…_

Swallowing a hand-full of dirt, Ron moaned, barely conscious as he heard Harry's strained voice and another tone harsh and had to belong to the snatchers labeled leader.

"And what about you, ginger?" Ron assumed he was asking him because another nudge from a boot found mark on his side.

"Stan Shunpike."

"Like 'ell you are. We know Stan Shunspike, 'e's put a bit of work our way."

This time a blow discovered his mouth. Ron now swallowed dirt and blood.

"Bardy Weasley."

Although swollen purple, Ron chanced a desperate search for Hermione.

"Penelope Clearwater."

"What's your blood status?"

"Half-blood"

Taking accountability for the grimy servants of the Dark Lord, Ron answered their interrogations, trying to keep his groaning to a minimally comprehendible volume. He had to be strong for his friends. Soon, the three of them joined the other prisoners. Ron noticed Harry's face. Unrecognizable. Had to be the work of Hermione Granger and if not for their current dire circumstances he would have smiled at her undying and relentless brilliancy.

"Anyone still got a wand?"

"No." Ron and Hermione answered together.

Greybeck returned his interrogation to Harry, questioning his credibility towards his name, Vernon, a supposed Slytherin.

Frightened for their safety, Hermione quivered silently, begging for any sort of luck to befall them. Then they discovered the sword. Hermione whimpered under breath, hoping Ron couldn't hear her plummeting courage, whistling as it tumbled to its demise. Therefore, when they noticed her name with Harry's in the Prophet, she couldn't withhold a desperate shriek.

"It isn't me! It isn't me!"

Struggling against his binds, Ron attempted to scoot closer to her, to grant her courage from his own even if its population dwindled by the second.

"This changes things then doesn't it?"

_Stupid Hermione. I will have killed everyone now. Oh, God, they found his glasses. They know it's his. They know, they know…_

They argued amongst themselves, the unmarked servants of He-Who-Must-Not-Typed, until they turned and faced their hostages. They were yanked to their feet.

"Grab hold and make it tight. I'll do Potter. One…two…three."

Through blurred eyes, Hermione glared at the approaching Malfoy Manor as they pulled her, Ron, and Harry towards its mouth where probable ravenous death awaited them.

Their captor's breath sank sickly on her neck as Ron continued to scuffle against his bounds every time one of the snatchers mentioned Hermione in repulsive remarks. Another grunt escaped Ron as they summoned Draco to identify them. He knew he would immediately recognize Hermione and himself with his obvious hair color that shamelessly advertised "Weasley" in neon letters.

"…Draco, come here and look properly. What do you think?" Lucius' voice commanded his son. Ominous silence. A silence that could define their life or death as the certain tears clouded Hermione's eyes more dominantly.

"I don't know."

Ron stole a long inhale but stole to soon and it robbed him of everything else not scream foul play. Mrs. Malfoy recognized Hermione.

"Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

Trembling hysterically, Hermione kept her head down attempting so desperately to be strong for Harry and Ron.

_Ron, I can only be so strong…_

_Be strong Hermione, be strong. Be strong for me!_

"But then that's the Weasley boy."

_NO. Oh God, why didn't I jinx Ron too… I could have saved him…_

Sobs escaped. But fear heightened to its highest peak when an additional distinguishable voice entered the scene. Bellatrix.

"But surely, this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger."

Ron shook inwardly.

They were about to beckon the Dark Lord but their greed and selfishness delayed them.

"What is that?"

Bellatrix interrogated hotly. Ron could hear Hermione now and her faltering composure. Ron continued to shake violently but not out of anger or fear but a different fear, an unrequited, disquieted fear not for himself but for Hermione. He feared above all things, above his own life, that in this moment he could not protect Hermione. He felt helpless and powerless. His love was not strong enough to break the chains. Then his fear turned hot. It infuriated him that he could not protect what was most dear to him. Ron was nothing without Hermione. He found purpose in protecting and loving her but neither in this moment was strong enough, powerful enough. This is why Ron shook like a human earthquake. A fear and anger unlike any he had ever known. An anger not fabricated by a possessed locket but by his own aching heart.

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar Greybeck," Mrs. Malfoy repeated Bellatrix's demand.

"Wait."

Hermione waited, somehow knowing what would come next.

"All except, except for the Mudblood."

Ron's heart stopped. The rage inside him leapt from his eyes and throat.

_NO!_

"No! You can have me, keep me!"

_TAKE ME!_

"If she dies under questioning. I'll take you next."

It hurt to breathe, like the reason to do so had stayed in the room with Hermione and her captor.

Hurt to breathe?

No.

Impossible to breathe.

He couldn't hear, he couldn't see. It took what seemed like centuries before he even realized he now lied in the mucky floor of cellar.

_Hermione… Hermione… Hermione…_

Her name ran through his veins, clotting his eyes. Her scream breached his sound barrier.

"HERMIONE!" Ron exploded. He writhed, twisted, turned, and struggled against the ropes. He thought himself weak until he heard her voice and then he knew himself to be just strong enough, just strong enough for Hermione.

"HERMIONE!"

Harry attempted to calm him down but it was no use. Her name screamed through him.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

_HERMIONE!_

When a familiar voice announced it presence, Ron detained his next scream.

"Luna?"

Ron clarified the name with a glance then returned his focus to the cellar door, thrashing all the while.

Another scream.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

What else could he scream? Everything in his body throbbed her name. All he breathed was her name; all he thought was her name, all he lived for, in that moment, was her name.

_HERMIONE!_

"We found it, we found it, PLEASE!"

Hermione's desperate cries fueled Ron further. The rope burns on his arm bled.

"Ron, please stay still!" Luna whispered. "I can't see what I'm doing—"

"My pocket! In my pocket, there's a Deluminator and it's full of light!" Ron struggled to release it then with a brief, relieving click light flooded the room.

Luna thanked him but Ron barely heeded, his attention was impartial to the terrible voice of Lestrange.

Another awful, heart-wrenching, soul-sinking, earth shattering scream.

"HERMIONE!"

Bellatrix threatened again and again maliciously, threats to Hermione's life, to Ron's life if she did not succeed in surviving. Agony everywhere. His breath, even his exhaling, was aching as if air—oxygen could not exist either without Hermione. But he needed air. He needed to break free and free Hermione. He needed Hermione.

_Just one more breath I beg you please, one more breath for her… for her… for Hermione._

"HERMIONE!"

_Hermione…Hermione…Hermione…_

It ran marathons endlessly inside of him, resounding her name against his ribs of ash and bone.

"HERMIONE!"

His left side seized, his throat bled, as he darted around and across their prison searching, groping for any exit. After attempting to Disapparate without a wand, Ron sensed blistering tears behind his blue orbs. With a calm tone, Luna assured Ron there was no way except the way in which they had entered.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

Ron threw his fists, face, body, and being into the cellar door, sobbing uncontrollably. It was killing him as if every curse casted upon Hermione effected Ron also, it was the ultimate torturing curse. He pounded, hammered, and nailed his fists into the door. Again.

And again.

Then Hermione screamed. Again.

And again.

_Hermione…Hermione…Hermione…Why Hermione? Why not me? I would die for her, take her instead of me…take me…not Hermione…she doesn't even know…she doesn't deserve… _Even his thoughts were interrupted by his sobs._ She doesn't know…she doesn't know that I would die for her…that I love her…I was the one who left! PUNISH ME! TAKE ME! KILL ME! Just don't kill her…She doesn't even know…_

His lungs screamed, his heart and soul and finally out his mouth the scream emerged. Exact in strength and height as the one in the forest weeks ago. The scream so deafening.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed yards away of Ron just out of arms reach, just out of love's power. "We've never been inside your vault…It isn't the real sword! It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

Standing still for the first time in hours, Ron listened. Lucius had sent Draco to ensure Hermione's statement. The hovering light orbs disappeared as the prison door opened. They took the goblin. When the door returned to its resilient close, Ron returned the light.

"DOB—!"

Ron had almost given away the discreet appearance of Dobby the house-elf if Harry had not placed a firm slap to quiet him.

"Dobby has come to rescue you."

Ron had never been so happy in his entire life to lay eyes upon the wide-eyed and scrawny house-elf. From that moment on, he formed a sudden new loyalty and respect to the house-elves that he would withhold for as long as he lived. This house-elf would assist in rescuing Hermione and for that he owed Dobby's entire race his life and devotion.

"But how did you—"

Hermione screamed. Not having much else to act upon, Ron clenched his black and blue fists. He winced.

_Help is on the way, Hermione, I'm coming…Hold on… Oh, God, please just hold on!_

"Bill and Fluer's!" Ron interjected. "Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth!"

Dobby obeyed Harry's orders and Ron's frantic expression containing the same commands, just unsaid, and the elf disapparated with Dean, Ollivander, and Luna.

"What was that?"

Ron swore under his breath.

"Draco, no, call Wormtail! Make him go and look."

Harry and Ron knew what they had to do, what they had no choice in completing. Keeping the lights on, Ron and Harry planned their assault, leaning on opposite side of the wall perpendicular to the door. When Wormtail stepped inside, Harry and Ron attacked.

"What is it, Wormtail?" Lucius called from above.

"Nothing! All fine!" Ron replied in a Wormtail imitated voice. It worked. Then Ron felt it, something positive charge him…hope.

_I'm coming Hermione…I'm coming…_

He disarmed Pettigrew. Foolishly cowardly, Peter Pettigrew then died under the hand that swore to protect those who served him. No guilt touched Ron at that moment only Hermione's lingering screams inside of him. He followed Harry out of the cellar and into the hallway just around the corner from Hermione and Bellatrix's interrogation of the goblin. Ron stared at the motionless body of Hermione Granger. Everything paused in its trembling, everything ceased its living within Ron.

"It is a fake."

"Are you sure? Quite sure?"

"Yes."

"Good. And now…we call the Dark Lord."


	12. Anything Worth Living For?

Anything Worth Living For

(Chapter 12)

"Wait."

Hermione waited, somehow knowing what would come next.

"All except, except for the Mudblood."

Hermione trembled furiously, her courage dizzy and unsteady as it tried to find its feet to withstand the forthcoming trials. Ron exclaimed in objection, his veins bulging from his neck.

_Shut up, Ron! I can…I can do this. Just don't…do anything stupid…like saving me and getting yourself killed._

As Greybeck dragged Harry and Ron out of the room, Bellatrix grabbed a hand-full of Hermione's hair, tugging her to a more suitable area for questioning—torturing. Ron found Hermione's eyes as they were pulled in opposite directions. Neither had much courage left in them, both had tears in them, both had fear for the other in their eyes. In that moment, Hermione wished she could say all the things she had never said to him in her eyes, make him read her last testimony, her last wish, and her last declaration.

_Can he see it? Can he see what I have written upon eyes and tears for him to read?_

Ron and his unseeing eyes disappeared down the hallway.

_He was never much of a reader…_

"I am going to ask you…a series of question and you will answer me with the truth. And maybe I'll let you live. But if you lie to me…"

A stream of light struck Hermione. The pain so unbearable, her cry was uncontainable.

"You will regret it, Mudblood."

Bellatrix voice sounded like poison or venom ready to strike and murder any ear. Pacing—stalking her prey, Bellatrix glared at Hermione with her arm outstretched, pointing her wand, gesturing it every which way like a mad composer.

Hermione grimaced, fading in and out of consciousness. Intolerable uncertainty plagued her, questioned her reasons to die. What cause would she die for? Was it a good cause, a good reason to die, and honorable way to die?

Another spell struck.

Like a ten-foot, flaming needle snaking through her, Hermione release another shattering scream. Doubt flooded within her too. Fear.

_Is there anything? Anything worth lying for? Worth dying for?_

Painted black, Hermione's mind fainted at the insufferable torture. However great her anguish at that time, her unconscious defense automatically barricaded her nerves from fully experiencing the affliction, using only defense she had left. Memories. A distraction, a decoy to her panic and faltering valor was subconsciously fabricated and it created a counter attack to the unendurable tribulation. Something Bellatrix couldn't curse or even begin attempt to steal. Something that couldn't be touched by any spell.

Like the Bellatrix's next curse, her life flashed before her eyes.

Was there anything worth this? Was it worth dying for?

_Poor Neville. He lost his toad. I couldn't imagine if I lost Crookshanks. That ugly boy with greasy ghostly hair wasn't much help. Maybe the people in here will be more helpful. There's that one boy with that scar everyone was talking about with broken glasses. I could fix that, easily. Oh, goodness what is that red glare coming from? Oh! Such red hair! He could stop traffic! It looks silky though, perfectly going in every direction. And blue eyes, such blue eyes like looking straight into a cloudless sky. He's got something brown on his nose, must mean he's sloppy and lazy, probably will never finish his homework. I can just tell that this red headed boy is going to be trouble._

Bellatrix asked another question. Hermione found voice and courage to lie directly into the face of evil.

"You are lying, filthy Mudlbood!" Pain. Blinding and black encompassing pain. It escaped her cracked lips.

_You're ridiculous, Ron. Trying to cast a spell with a broken wand? Sometimes I wonder if you ever think before you act. You didn't even hesitate when Draco called me that awful name. Like you were ready to protect me at any moment and now look where it's gotten you? Puking slugs. What were you thinking? That was so…brave. So wonderful. Thank you, Ron. But, Ron, you can be so…so…Hermione, you're at a lost for words! What is wrong with you?_

Reoccuring images of that year of the chamber of secrets fueled Hermione further.

"Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

Physically, she could no longer withstand it, it was too much but her mind had never been so armed and ready as it now pulled her back, back to the something worth dying for.

'_Where's Harry's broom, where is his bloody broom!' I wont even bother to correct his bad language…he was as red as his hair. He's pacing back and forth on this empty Quidditch field, running his hands through his damp hair. Why does he have to do that? It drives me crazy. It made his blazing red hair even more untidy. I love it when it's untidy. Oh, gosh, he's shaking with passionate loyalty for our friend Harry. Such loyalty, such courage. 'They hurt him! Those bloody Dementors hurt Harry. I swear I kill every bloody one. I will make them wish they were never alive…or whatever…wish they were more than…half-dead or half-alive or…bloody hell!' I'm trying to calm him down, telling him he's okay as we walked to the hospital wing. Maybe I'm keeping my hand on his shoulder a little too long. But he doesn't seem to mind and well, I don't mind much either. Oh, listen to you, Hermione…sounding like someone in…_

"CRUCIO!"

_You're were brilliant, Hermione… __Come and dance…_

Her screams, it was the only entity giving her pain description, definition. Her speech and words were strained and stole strength, strength that her entire being had nothing left of. It was all too much.

Just take me now, this torture isn't worth living for anymore…I have my remembrances and I will be remembered…

Then she heard it, the other screams not her own echoing off the dreadful walls. She must have blocked everything else from her mind, even Bellatrix's knifing glares and stabbing words seeped through as vague and muffled sounds.

_Harry? No, not Harry. Ron. It was Ron. How could she mistake that voice? That voice that said my name so perfectly. It sounded so much like that time… In the hospital, when he lied there, unconscious, weak, and his complexion not his usual lovable blush. I tried to hate him a lot that year because of Lavender…but I couldn't hate him. I just couldn't. Then he said my name "Her…mio…ne…", like he said it, screamed it now._

"Oh, wont someone shut that boy up?" Came an undistinguishable voice.

Tangled terribly with wickedness, Bellatrix's face leveled itself to Hermione's kneeling figure.

"Sounds like a boy who loves you. I will make sure he goes next then." She laughed treacherously.

Though her body seized with pain and hurt, indescribable, she had amazingly, remarkably, incredibly found might to open her eyes. She stared at the ground but did not see ground. She saw Ron. She saw his hair, his grin, and his eyes. All she saw was his two blue, cloudless skies. All she heard was Bellatrix's words again and again.

And again.

"Sounds like a boy who loves you."

Bellatrix intended the words to mark not to motivate but motivate it did.

Yes, there lay in one hand a worthy reason to die but in the other stood a lone motive to live, to live through the unbearable torture. Yes, there in her fingers also lied fear and doubt and uncertainty but what she feared most of all is not the fact of leaving life but the fact of what life she was leaving behind.

_Is there anything? Anything…worth living for?_

_Sounds like a boy who loves you…who loves you…_

"You sound jealous." Hermione hardly believed that her own ripped vocal chords had uttered those words and Bellatrix hardly perceived it either. She staggered back.

"What?" Bellatrix expression turned, for the slightest of seconds, turned stunned.

Hermione's vocal chords struck another note.

"You heard me. You sound jealous like you wished someone would love you like that."

Though this was purely speculation on Hermione's behalf in her words still remained truth and hope. Hope. That was enough. Hope that he could be a reason worth living for. One can die for memories and ideas of freedom and beliefs in the good rule over the evil, but when that all has come to pass there had to be a reason, a solitary reason to live. Hope was the new medication for her pain.

_Anything worth living for?_

'_I hope Harry will be alright.' I said to Ron, his hand lingering in my hair, intoxicating me. He hadn't let go of my hand all this time during Dumbledore's funeral. Not that I would let him. I felt at home in his arms. 'Always worried about Harry. I'm sure Harry's fine, Hermione.' He pulled my head away from his chest and he looked at me, his blue eyes searching me. 'Are you okay?' Ron was never much for words because he didn't need them; he has this unspoken passion so defining and glorious. It's what I love about him. So, you admit now Hermione, after all these years you finally admit it. 'I'll be fine, Ron. I'm okay…now.' Because I'm home._

"Shut up, you filth, you Mudblood, now tell me…what else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

Hermione sobbed again but not out of terror, dread, or worry but her corpse wrangled with fight for life.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

Those defenses found trenches that found fences to protect Hermione.

What had she lived for?

Her hand in his.

Her heart inches from his.

Her breath sharing his.

What will she die for?

That red hair.

Those blue eyes.

That loyalty, his bravery.

She loved him. Her only fear remaining was that he may never know that he was what she lived and died for.

_He will protect my parents…he would find them make sure…they're happy. He would protect them as he protected me. He will help Harry destroy the rest of the Horcruxes. My only fear is that he will never know._

_Someone to live for and live because of them, because it's not living without them...and someone living for you…and only you…_

Bellatix's eyes, for the briefest of moments, flashed an envious curiosity for Hermione but it departed as quickly as it came and it ignited her fury further.

"VERMIN! MUDBLOOD! ANSWER ME! How did you get into my vault?"

"It isn't the real sword…it's a copy, just a copy!"

"Oh, really? Likely story!"

Hermione's final gallant stand, she raised her head, clenching her ash hands, grasping both reasons for death and life; she gazed through blood-shot eyes at Bellatrix.

_Sounds like a boy who loves you…_

"And you know what? I love him too."

As if an unspeakable curse struck her, Bellatrix screamed then cast one last blow to Hermione.

She knew that her death was imminent and close by, approaching in a silver streak towards her neck but she held on by her fingernails.

"_Oh, yes you can… You deserve at least this much, after today and everything else… and for just being Hermione… You… You were…whole lot more than I have in words. I don't think Harry still be alive without you. Much less me. But I'm not as important." You're important to me, Ron. You are my last thought, my last stand, my...everything._

_Something worth dying for, worth living for._

_You are worth living for and worth dying for, worth suffering the insufferable, bearing the unbearable, living through the unlivable. I do not fear death. _What I fear most of all is not the fact of leaving life but the fact of what life I am leaving behind…

Then everything turned…black.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Swollen shut, Hermione's eyelids could not be opened but she was alive. She heard Ron then yelps and crashes then she felt herself being tugged to her feet. Something cold and sharp touched her neck. She couldn't think and it hurt to breathe, her bruises throbbed and her scratches and gashes stung. But she was still alive?

She had to be…but why?

_How come I haven't died yet?_

Because he doesn't know and she would tell him, scream it to him as soon as life to her body arrived.

Clanking and crashing noises came from above them and suddenly Bellatrix released Hermione and leapt away from the tumbling chandelier as Hermione tumbled with it.

More black. She had to be dead this time.

_Am I missing? Or was the body found?_

No. She felt herself being picked up and encircling arms held her, familiar strong and safe arms.

She was still alive.

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Why not let me die?_

_Because he doesn't know. He has to know and he has to know now. Because he doesn't know and because he's worth living for therefore I will not let go. _

_Where am I? We're not at the manor anymore…_

"Where…"

"Shh…Hermione, I'm here."

_Oh…Ron! I'm…I'm home._

_I'm alive._

_I'm home._

It's a good life, a blessed life if one finds someone to live for and die for and especially, though unknowingly, if their purpose is shared. Ron lived and breathed and would die for Hermione but what he didn't know was that she too found purpose in him. Where she too found life and where she too would give life away for his sake. That was the only kind of love. The kind to live and die for and both Ron and Hermione found that life, that purpose, and that love, in each other.


	13. Oddly Relieved

Oddly Relieved

(Chapter 13)

Watching the chandelier crash upon Hermione bestowed all the adrenaline and vigor he needed. It all became a blur like his body moved mechanically, automatically understanding what must be done. Even his subconscious, unconsciousness body's reaction knew instinctively what it must act upon and that it must act. Save what his everything valued most like a well-rehearsed play where he knew the steps so well it was a second nature. These deliberate and desperate steps, however, were more frantic and more real than any play. Soon, he had Hermione in his arms, her body feeble and frail, so light, too light, causing Ron's knees to falter with the heavy weight of grief. With great determination and deliberation, Ron disapparated to his brother's cottage. He tried not to formulate any idea or thought where Hermione was not alive. It would be a miracle if she had survived such turmoil. An impossible miracle but a miracle so fervently hoped and prayed for nonetheless.

_Live, Hermione. Live. Don't give up. Live for me._

"Ron!" His brother called from his doorstep, sprinting to meet them. "What in bloody… Oh no, Ron what…"

"I have to…she has to…" Ron's voice was as fragile as the innocent creature that lay in his grasp. He had lost a great portion of his voice back at the manor.

"Okay go ahead and take her inside. Take her to the guest room on the second floor. Fleur will take care of her. Dear God, Ron…what happened?"

Ron need not have responded in his expression lied all the explanation required. His stride widened on his shaky legs into the house and up the stairs in a matter of moments. He placed her carefully into a bed. Her clothes were torn, her face glistened with the mixture of sweat and tears, soot and ash darkened her skin and clothing. Twas a sight Ron could not bear.

"Where..."

_Holy Merlin and all his clothing! She's alive! She's alive…she's alive…she'll live…she'll live…_

"Shh…Hermione, I'm here."

Ron collapsed upon grateful knees beside Hermione. Tears fell like Niagara Falls down his face, turning dirt into muck on his cheeks. Lightly caressing her left arm with his left, Ron reached his other available hand and stroked her cheek, assuring that this alive Hermione wasn't an illusion.

_I want to give you whatever you need. What is it you need? Is it what I need? I want to give you whatever you need. What is it you need? Is it within me?_

The words he emoted and the feelings he felt, he resounded them silently each time his thumb circled Hermione's cheek. Her skin soft and silky as much as it looked from afar, as much as he had admired it from afar but better than he ever imagined. She looked so breakable like his own touch would surely break her but it allowed his heart to find feet and begin a steady pace back and forth, back and forth in the halls of his rib cage. Emotion flooded him and his dam broke, the words spraying out his mouth. He would have imploded otherwise, the relief too much to bear in a simple human body much less his teaspoon. So he executed what he was not infamous for, he said what was on his mind.

"You know what I was thinking about? When I first met you, on the Hogwarts Express. You came in, looking for Neville's toad. You know what I thought you were talking about? I thought you came in to get mad for taking the rest of the chocolate frogs. I was about to apologize but instead I kinda just stared…you're hair distracted me."

He ached for her to wake up and see his encouraging grin however weak and forced it may have been.

"You're hair distracted me too."

What Ron didn't know was that the sound of the voice had already begun the healing within Hermione.

_His skies have had storms. Oh, I wish I had the strength to wipe them away. Those tears… Can they be? Can they be for me?_

"Oh, blimey Hermione. I thought for second…bloody hell…I thought I lost you…I thought…"

He elevated himself from the pleading posture and sat carefully beside Hermione on the bed.

"You know how much I enjoy proving you wrong…" Hermione teased but her voice was raspy. Ron crookedly grinned.

His hand refused to leave its comfortable location upon her upper arm while the other left her cheek and lingered through her hair. Ron hadn't felt Hermione's hair or ran his fingers through its splendor and beauty since Dumbledore's funeral but that didn't mean he hadn't wanted to, every moment his mind stood still long enough. It was a therapeutic cure for Ron and Hermione too.

_Just hold me close to you. Wont you hold me now?_

Ron yearned to kiss every scathed mark on Hermione. A kiss upon the forehead would suffice though, Ron concluded as he slowly tipped towards Hermione, placing the most delicate kiss the world has ever known firmly on her brow. Closing her eyes, Hermione soaked in the kiss, allowed it to drench her insides, sinking in his closeness, his paralyzing proximity. It's a funny thing in the subject of the hearts behavior when gestures such as these transpire. In most cases, Hermione's heart would trip about, forget its function but in this case it resurrected itself from a lifeless and tormented condition. Loitering his lips longer than necessary, Ron inhaled, something he didn't perform too often lately, then moved his lips and imprinted them again on her hairline. Regretfully drawing away, Ron permitted his lips to drown in her taste, his senses drowning in her scent. Everything seems to taste different, smell different, look and feel different when what one love's most is nearly taken away. Tastes and smells are concentrated and sweeter. Anyone can live with anyone but Ron and Hermione found the one person they could not live without.

"Hermione…you were so...bloody hell…so…"

_What words could I use? It was Hermione who knew all about the words and stuff like that. I just wish I had something to show how much…_

"I think I get the idea, Ron." Hermione placed her hand atop Ron's, her smile so blurred by her tears Ron almost missed it.

When their eyes had discovered each other after a brilliant dance about the room with silent music and silent lips, their eyes said unsaid things to one another but still remained unseen and unheard. Fleur entered.

"Oh, Eermionee! Ron youz muzt leave at onze. I muzt make zeez markz more bearable for her. Come Ron, I weel take good care of her. Harree'z out front."

_Blimey, Harry. I had almost forgot._

Ron felt a twang of guilt for not concerning himself for his other friend but a weak smile from Hermione reassured him that he had done the right thing. Nodding slightly, Ron turned to exit, offering another encouraging grin to Hermione.

As soon as Ron disappeared, Fleur summoned some linen. Hermione's body felt as sturdy as the clothes she wore, thin, torn, and thread-bare.

"What have you zree beeen up too?"

Hermione swallowed left over ash from her throat before answering.

"You know, typical teenage wizard trouble."

"Zatz eez not funnee."

"You're right…its not."

"You zeem rather gittee for being…injured…"

Hermione did not reply. She knew a liable explanation for her unusual positivism.

_I'm alive. I'm home…and Ron…I think after all my waiting is…coming around…Frankly, Fleur I feel quite…oddly relieved._

"You are a very brave girl. I can zee why Ron likez you."

And the healing continued.

Ron and Dean found Harry finalizing Dobby's burial arrangements. He asked about Hermione and Ron answered, trying to keep his tone from revealing too much of the relief already being portrayed in his face. After that, Harry hadn't uttered a word or something like it so Ron also remained silent both grief stricken for their elf friend that had a great hand in saving Hermione's life and their own.

When Ron noticed Hermione, a walking Hermione, he immediately met her and roped his arm around her waist. Out of all the emotions that invaded Ron that day, in that moment, with his arm around Hermione, her standing and gaining strength, he felt oddly relieved.

_Even when tortured out of her bloody mind she still looks and feels perfect._

They voiced their thanks to Dobby before Ron insisted Hermione sit and rest. His hand remained glued to her side.

The duo retired to the sitting room and sat. Pulling his chair as close as it would allow, Ron faced Hermione, their knees grazing gently. Exhausted, Hermione closed her eyes and resolved to concentrate her thoughts in steadying her breathing and not her emotional undoing sitting so hazardously near.

Feeling the tug of emotion again, Ron leaned closer still and found Hermione's hands and laced them within his, uncaring that his behavior was unusual and uncommon. But he had come to a certain realization in the last few crucial and pivotal hours of his life. He would treasure every moment, every second with Hermione, and refuse to permit any of those moments to go untouched. He aimed to begin this mission by memorizing every line of Hermione's hands. The pure and innocent intimacy wonderfully powerful in its simplicity.

The sudden sensation of a sweet, cool trickle, coursing up and down her back and arms caused Hermione to reveal her coffee eye color to the world. She replied to his posture and leaned closer also. The distance between the two drastically depleted making it extremely difficult for Hermione to continue her simple task of breathing. When she downcast her eyes to their tangled hands, she gasped.

"Ron! What did you…"

Ron pulled his hands away.

"They look like they're broken. Are those splinters? Glass…? Ron, you need that to be taken care of…where's my wand?"

Hermione made a weak and feasible attempt to stand before Ron grasped her arms and gently placed her back into her seat. Only then did she notice that Ron was crying excessively.

"Ron…"

She stroked his wet cheeks with both her hands. Never had she seen Ron in such a state of humility and valuable vulnerability. With a graceful brush of her fingers, Hermione removed some of the red shrub crowding his forehead.

_Well, if he's allowed to touch my hair, I should be able to return the favor. Supple like a soft red fruit…better than I imagined._

"You were almost killed…and you're worried…about my hands…?"

_You're ridiculous, Hermione. Absolutely, ridiculous but that's okay._

Because of Ron's unexpected emotional state, Hermione couldn't resist in following his suit with tears of her own. They're hands had found each other again and their foreheads were mere inches away. Embarrassed, Ron wouldn't lift his head so not to meet Hermione's ever-knowing eyes. Her eyes can read so easily.

"I can't believe you!" Ron exclaimed in a small chuckle, his tears subsiding. "But I'll go find it for you. There's no use in arguing with you." He found it with their grand collection.

"I'll do it." Ron announced handing Hermione her wand. Slowly but accurately, Ron removed some of the color painting his hands.

"You've been doing your homework." Hermione teased lightly.

"I guess you're a bad influence on me."

They surrendered they're wands to the nearest table at the opposite sides of it. But because of the awkward shape of the table, the wands did not remain stationary but rolled toward the center of the table. The wands collided softly. Ron attempted to separate them once more but to no avail. They collided, unwilling to complete Ron's biding.

Ron chuckled again. "Looks like no matter how hard we try we can't seem to keep them away from each other. Like they were meant to be by each others side."

"Ron…that was almost profound." Hermione replied with a vaguely sly smile.

"Always the tone of surprise."

Smiles widened, strengthened. The display of the stubborn wands symbolizing more than Ron and Hermione could perceive.

"We should find Harry." Hermione suggested, regretful in having to move from their comfortable positions.

They stood instantaneously, hands still tied.

Ron was staring at their hands intently incapable to release the sensation they gave.

"I need you two as well!" Harry called.

When Ron and Hermione appeared, Ron supporting Hermione, Hermione supporting Ron, both supporting the other for different reasons, one physically and one mentally, Harry watched them. He noticed something misplaced. They appeared to be relinquished of a burden, to be satisfied with their current situation, to be satisfied of releasing something, something admitted or declared, not a declaration of the grandest of sorts but of some silent kind that made them appear the way they did. As if a prominently unbreakable bond became anew between them, noticeably altered in the best sense even under the circumstances of the world, their families, and Harry Potter. In a word or two, they appeared…oddly relieved.


	14. We All Look Like We Feel

A/N: Quite the silly chapter but there wasn't enough light-heartedness so I added this chapter to release me of my suffering. I apologize for its lovely hokey pokeyness.

We All Look Like We Feel

(Chapter 14)

"HERMIONE!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

A few days into their rest at the Shell Cottage renewed the trio and healed their wounds. Harry was distant, his thoughts dark and anywhere but with them which gifted Ron and Hermione more time alone…with the exception of Luna, Dean, Griphook, Ollivander, Bill, and Fleur's presence also. If one could refer to that as being alone. Discussing the enthralling subjects of the Horcruxes and their locations, Ron and Hermione debated, argued and simply relished in each other's company. Hermione healed, though the scars would always remain a remembrance of that dreadful night at the Malfoy Manor. Having his own share of his scars of his arms and hands, Ron allowed his hands to heal under Fleur's and Hermione's assistance.

Three days after their fantastic visit to the Malfoy residence, Ron was exchanging his pajama's for his regular clothes until Hermione interrupted him, again.

"You know that's the second time you've done that." Ron complained, his tone his common mumble as he struggled helplessly with his shirt.

"Well, maybe you should seriously consider closing the door when you change." Hermione retorted, approaching him. Ron rolled his eyes but covertly swallowed the shiver resulting from Hermione's brashness to stand so close.

Arms crossed, Hermione observed Ron's sad state. One of his arms was in the hole where his head should have been and both his other arm and head poked through the hole that was meant for only an arm. Plus, the shirt was backwards.

"Honestly, Ron." Hermione began with an exasperated sigh, "Is it so difficult for you to put on a shirt?"

He pouted, his glance directed in any direction other than Hermione's smug expression. With a groan from the wooden floor, Ron knew she stole another step towards him.

_What an oaf you must look like right now, Ron._

Hermione had to resist the impulse to giggle. Like a disturbed ballerina, Ron had his one arm sticking straight up in the air as if in mid-spike for volleyball and his fair skin and red hair contrasted superbly. He resembled whip cream with a cherry on top.

"Do why I have to help you with everything?" Hermione retorted once more, the itch to grin to great to defy. Hermione clasped her fingers about the edges of his shirt, her fingers faintly brushing his rigid skin, beginning to aid in removing it and starting anew. Unable to budge, Ron stood perfectly still.

"Oh, sorry!" Luna interrupted with an appearance and disappearance in the same second. All Luna observed in that room was a Hermione undressing a Ron and she knew she had to make a departure.

Instantly jumping away from each other, Ron and Hermione colored crimson.

"Bloody house. Not enough room for all of us. Man can't get any privacy…" Ron mumbled grouchily.

With a gruff yank to his shirt, Ron abandoned it, tossing it to the ground. Humiliated, Ron chanced a quick glance at Hermione of whom he discovered in a fit of hysterical laughter. It felt terrific to laugh again as if discovering after countless encounters with evil and evil every day there was still laughter in the world, incredulous that it even existed and withstanded.

"She probably thought…when she saw me…and you…oh, goodness…" She collapsed onto his bed with her face alight with magnificent delight.

"Its not that funny," Ron grumbled incoherently.

"I'm…sorry, Ron. I hope she doesn't…go telling everyone else though…" Tears of amusement flooded her eyes as she began strictly controlling her gawky guffaw.

"Well, I'm sure you're laughter can be heard thousand a miles away so I'm sure she knows whatever she thought we were doing wasn't what we were doing." Ron turned away, shoveling his hands into his pockets. His entire body's complexion was now all consumed by the resemblance of a cherry.

"I'm sorry, Ron but you have to admit. That was pretty funny."

"Yeah, hilarious." When Hermione composed herself, she joined Ron by the window. Ron didn't flinch, he commenced another a search for a different less difficult shirt.

"I said I was sorry."

"Fine. I forgive you."

They stirred in silence awhile before Hermione broke it.

"I'm sorry about that too." Hermione pronounced.

"What?"

She gently poked at his splinching scar.

"Oh, that. That's okay. I'd like to add it to my collection of Hermione scars and bruises."

She puffed and narrowed her eyes at him then returned to the bed, readjusting her arms to their crisscross position.

"C'mon, Hermione…" Ron softened and then sat next to her. "I'm allowed to laugh too."

"Well, not about that."

Ron exhaled.

"Fine." Fascinated with their sudden intrigue, Ron inspected his fingernails then forced a look at Hermione. Her hands were also under interrogation.

"I'm sorry about that," Ron suddenly announced, his fingers carefully tracing her scar from Bellatrix's knife. Hermione nearly detonated out of her skin. His captivating touch lingered a moment longer before ascending to her chin. With a gentle, inviting tug, Ron asked Hermione's face to face him.

"How does it feel?"

"Fine."

Their eyes collided, curious for each other's secrets.

"How do you feel?"

_We all look like we feel, Ron._

But she knew he couldn't read his homework much less her blush.

"Okay."

Ron nodded, removing his hand. Its presence upon her neck and chin still hovered though, aflame sweetly. Stiffly standing, Ron stretched his arms, preparing his wings for take off as a yawn escaped. His muscles flexed causing another scarlet flush on Hermione's face. She turned her face away.

"What? Tired after all that shirt wrestling?" Hermione said with a coy smile.

"No. You tired from all that laughing?"

Hermione attempted annoyed expression but failed miserably as she also stood.

"No as a matter of fact. I think I'll go find Luna…" Slyly slipping across her lips and cheeks, a smirk buttered Hermione's face. Ron's eyes widened as he prevented Hermione when she endeavored to leave.

"Oi! I don't think so…"

"What? Do you still need help with dressing yourself?"

Realizing his immodesty, he wrapped his arms as an unsuccessful concealment. Hermione bent and picked up the disobedient shirt in which Ron had quarreled. He garbled his thanks as he acquired it from her grasp but unexpectedly grabbed her hand also, smoothly towing it closer to receive a better glance. Another distinct and terrible scar from Bellatrix. The loyal and protective persona surfaced upon Ron's features as he recollected her screams and his screams that decked the halls of the Malfoy Manor.

"Hermione…I'm so sorry that I wasn't…"

"Ron, would please stop? Its fine, its okay. It's over now. Let it go."

"Would you please let me finish? Blimey Hermione, you can be so frustrating sometimes. I have something to say and I know it usually takes me forever to say it so just…bear with me okay?"

Hermione stared, her eyes unmoving from his.

"Okay."

Her cast-iron stare with sweet chocolate eyes disparaged all the words he had intended to put in tongue. But what needed to be said had to be said; ere go, he tore his orbs away and sought redemption out the window. At the window, he found words, hiding cowardly behind the curtains.

"I didn't…bloody Merlin…sorry…I…Okay."

He returned his eyes to Hermione.

"I didn't want to leave you."

Unsure which occasion he was referring to, Ron gazed earnestly into Hermione. Not much did he say but much did Hermione understand in his little saying or the lack thereof.

_How come I can understand? To anyone else, it wouldn't sound like much. But to me…it means the world._

Standing on the understanding, Hermione stepped to him and rested both her hands on his neck, cementing his gaze before it started to wander. Her stance three inches away from him but her gaze reached closer, her hands electrifying nerves he was unacquainted with until this moment.

"You never left me, Ron."

"I…don't under…"

"You could have left that room at the Malfoy house, left that tent in the forest or leave this room right now but you'll still be here with me."

If he understood correctly—heard correctly, surely his heart would overflow and pour out of him as it tinted his ears with that blush Hermione adored.

"You never left me either."

_Now we're saying aloud the things we've declared in our silence._

Ron grinned a small smile. With Hermione's hands still about his neck, her left thumb resting upon his jaw, Ron tried to swallow air but his head had forgotten such duties and his eyes had remembered Hermione's lips.

_Perfect. Like everything else, of course._

"We should go find Harry." Briefly but barely accidentally grazing his bare chest, her hands fleeted from his neck, tentative and trembling.

_Enough with the Harry excuse! One of these days, Hermione Granger, you wont have Harry Potter as an excuse and I swear when that day comes…_

"Right." Ron ran quivering fingertips through his hair. Hermione whirled and exited the room. Afraid he might notice her trembling, Hermione rapidly hastened down the hall, dousing her hands aflame.

When Ron tore his feet away from that spot on the floor, he clenched the threads of the shirt still within his grasp where Hermione should have been and threw the blasted beast of clothing upon himself in one attempt. Dean appeared.

"Hey, Ron. I'm bored out of my bloody mind. Do you wanna play chess?" Dean suggested.

"I, uh, can't. I have to find…Harry."

"Hey, mate, are you feeling alright?"

Shaking and suddenly a containing a temperature of a hundred and eight, his face burgundy and his outfit wrinkled, Ron jerked his head into a bob, denying Dean the description of his true state of mind even though it was patently obvious.

_We all look like we feel._


	15. Ginny Fangs and Basalisk Fangs

A/N: Not to worry friends, this is only the first part to their trip to the chamber of secrets.

Ginny Fangs and Basalisk Fangs

(Chapter 15)

Wary eyes and worried faces surveyed Harry's heels disappear out of the room of requirement.

"I wish he didn't ask us to stay here." Hermione uttered so that only Ron could hear. Anxious and apprehensive, Ron and Hermione stood in a dark corner of the room they required for the pending war. Several edgy conversations similar Ron and Hermione's hushed words filled the room like a distant grumble of thunder while other forms of thunder grumbled outside the room.

"Don't worry Hermione. I'm sure Harry wont do any thing stupid like getting himself killed. At least not without us." Ron assured placing an arm around Hermione shoulder.

"Thanks, Ron. That's reassuring." Hermione replied but smiled despite herself. Ron shrugged requiting with angled lips of his own. His arm remained. Amidst the terror of the war and Harry, and Voldemort approaching, Hermione, in this moment, found herself immensely curious of what kissing Ron would be like, to touch those lips forever in their slanted smile. His arm remained, remaining a cloak of security.

What it would be like to kiss that grin, that gave her hope, that gave her strength? How she suffered from the curiosity, she ached from the desire, but especially from the need with the impending doom. She wanted to live before she died.

_He wouldn't ever take up the guts to kiss me. I know this, not something one needs to find out in a book. I just want to know. I don't like not knowing! Before…if we…But what if I…no. Not now. Not in front of Ginny!_

Edgy with the thoughts of their hairy situation and Harry Potter, the youngest Weasley paced anxiously before them, a patent state of stitched emotions and conformed of a woman's rage keen and primed for strike. When Ron and Hermione had their exchange in their hushed tones, suddenly, Ginny whipped her attention to them.

"I swear you two. If you don't stop with your secrets and bloody knows what I swear I'll hex you both. Merlin you two are a the darkest shade of rose around each other!"

Frightened, Ron and Hermione stared at Ginny. Of the slightest of pink complexion, Ron slid his arm off of Hermione and Hermione turned cold with its absence. Disliking the idea of an argument with any of his family, Ron relayed his apologies with a glare at his shoes.

"I was thinking of naming my daughter that, you know, Ginny." Lupin interjected with a small smile on his stubble face, coming to Ron and Hermione's rescue from Ginny's wrath. He granted the rose decorated couple with a smile and a nod. They hadn't noticed his arrival or Kingsley who lingered his attention with the head of the Weasley clan.

"Oh, Lupin! You don't mean she's…"

"No, of course not. I just meant if we ever had a girl. But I don't think I should be planning for another one since having Teddy. He's a hand-full. Gets it from his father."

Ginny almost smiled.

"It's Tonk's middle name, Rose is. It was…her father's mother's name."

"Oh, Lupin! I'm sorry."

"Its quite alright, Ginny."

"Well," Ron lifted his stare from the ground to Ginny and Lupin and declared defiantly, "I think Rose is a lovely name."

Glances of astonishment and expressions aghast bombarded Ron.

"What? It's bloody true!"

Faintly beaming at Ron's announcement, but dimly enough for it to escape Ginny's surveillance, Hermione restrained another whim to adhere his swearing yet charming and entrancing lips to her own in one telling kiss. Then a sudden realization poked her in the eye. Hermione reprimanded herself for distracting her thoughts with less pressing matters even if kissing Ron was a matter of high priority on her list. She tugged Ron away from the crowd, cornering him into a corner.

"Ron, I'm worried."

"Blimey, Hermione, I can't see why."

"Ron, I'm worried because I just realized so what if Harry finds the diadem or where to find it, how will we destroy it when we get it?"

"I don't know but I was thinking the same thing. Maybe, by the look Ginny, she could supply us with fangs and venom. She could work just as well as…"

"Oh, be serious Ron, this is no time for your—"

"But that's it!"

"Ginny isn't a Basalisk! Just because what she said about you and—"

"But that's it! Basalisk fangs!"

"Oh! But how…"

"The Chamber of Secrets!"

"Oh, Ron that's brilliant! I can't believe I didn't think of that!"

"You would have sooner or later, you're just distracted."

_That's true. There were less important but just as distracting matters I was thinking about._

"But since I did think of it, I want full credit." He winked.

An enthusiastic adrenaline rush infected the duo as they headed for the exit unexpectedly diseased with the ever-evasive hope.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Ginny exclaimed after them.

"Uh, I have to use the restroom." Ron muttered.

And before Ginny questioned such explanations with an explanation on why Hermione needed to help him, Ron and Hermione left.

"This is brilliant Ron, absolutely, brilliant."

Ron brilliantly beamed.

"Wait, lets go this way," Ron modified Hermione's direction, "We'll have to get a broom and I think I know where we could get one."

Hermione halted and Ron hadn't notice until a few feet passed between them.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked wearing his quizzical brow. Quivering with expectation, Hermione's jaw tightened. The need for his lips growing unbearable; he was truly becoming the man she waited for, through the rows, their unsaying silence, there could be no one else for her, she wouldn't stand for it, she wouldn't want anyone else.

_I am yours, Ron, always have been but now for certain always will._

She obliterated the feet between them and with a quick yet substantial kiss on Ron's cheek, her nose imprinted upon his upper cheekbone and her lips…

_Her lips! Those perfect lips!_

Her lips perfectly placed and remained seconds longer than a kiss to Harry would. Ron counted the seconds. Yes, at least an entire second longer than Harry.

It wasn't a substandard peck but a deliberate, well planned, placed, puckered kiss. Concluding to cellophane that cheek and keep its red sweetly swollen state evermore, Ron wanted so much to taste those lips, thinking it unfair for his cheeks to have all the splendor, his lips would need their fair share of heaven. 

"This is amazing. Brilliant, Ron. I think you're finally listening to me."

"About what?"

"How great you are."

"Think so?"

"Know so."

"Well, when Hermione knows, it's definitely true."

They grinned unanimously, she stole his hand and they trampled down the hall, the sounds of blasts and clashes not reaching their hearing, the only hearing permissible was their hearts a dance.

"Hey, Hermione?"

They slowed their scamper.

"At this rate, Ron, the war will be over by the time we get those fangs."

"I know. I just have something to say."

_I'd die for you and live because of you, I am living because of you. I am becoming what you claim to see because of you. All because of you, all for you._

_He has that look. That look on his face I've only seen in one other occasion. It was in the common room last year and I said I would help with something. I was hopeless, I couldn't say no to the boy. He gave me that look, the same he has now. 'I love you, Hermione.' Of course it wasn't what he meant but somehow it gave me hope that one day he'll say it again and say it in the way I only dreamt about. I thought I would blush. I didn't just smiled, content with just the possibility he might say it again wholeheartedly. Right now, there's that look again, but deeper, concentrated, pure, real…and wholehearted. His soft, suffocating eyes sincere and passionate…and his lips slightly agape… _

"You're amazing, Hermione. If I ever learned anything from Hogwarts, it was from you. And not because you couldn't give me detention and that you're three hundred thousands times better looking then the teachers here too, its because you understood me and you didn't give up on me. Thank you, for being amazing, brilliant…so that I could learn. I learned from you so now I can save all our arses."

_How great you are._

Those words rang beautifully in his reddening ears. It sang songs of encouragement, support for his inadequate pride. Possibly, Ron could be a little bit more than useless to the terrific trio. Maybe, possibly, he was beginning to shed his kingship of fools and mistakes and perhaps Hermione would notice this. She would often mention or complement his few and far in between traits and characteristics but now he considered that she might be correct in her encouragements. Her time and effect, her words and her presence was finally stealing hold. He ached to scream it aloud, say aloud his self-impeachment of boyhood, departing from that neighborhood forever, never to return. Possibly, hopefully, he could find residence in Hermione's mind and heart he may one day deserve, as a man he could possibly one day prove to be. Maybe this sudden unexpected brilliancy was only the beginning.

_I am vindicated. I am selfish. I am wrong. I am right. I swear I'm right, swear I knew it all along. And I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well. I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself._

Tears touched the corners of Hermione's eyes then she laughed, its ring reaching down the corridor and reaching inside of Ron.

"I doubt I'm three hundred times better looking then all the teachers but if you mean Mr. Binns then I'll take that as a complement. We should get going."

Ron refused to be rebuked or denied. Her held her hand firmly so she couldn't endeavor without him.

"I swear Hermione that you are beautiful and brilliant like a…a—a light bulb!"

_Light bulb? Blast, Ron. For goodness sake, if you wanted to insult her just refer her beauty to a Muggle invention. Maybe next time you can say she reminds you of a, what was it Dad brought home the other day, oh yes, 'hey Hermione your knowledge and beauty over flow like a fountain pen!'_

"That's real sweet, Ron."

_Merlin, I want to kiss him something awful. And oh, look he's even got me swearing now and if he doesn't quit it now…_

Attempting to tow him once more, Hermione giggled melodiously when she couldn't even sway his stance.

"Hermione. You can't be in denial forever. I can't believe the smartest girl I know doesn't even know how beautiful she is."

She shook her head. Releasing her hand, Ron raised it again but into the air in gesture of a vow of some sorts, his lids over his eyes and his nose hoisted into the air.

"I am not lying, Hermione Granger. I musn't tell lies."

"Fine. I believe you. Honestly, Ron…"

They disappeared as Hermione's slight smile unable and incapable to disappear.

Ron ached to scream it aloud, the feelings, the truths, and the breakthrough that he, Ronald Weasley, evermore dethroned of his crown. Today, this moment, Ron took evermore employment of a mere humble servant to the Queen of his heart.

_I will serve you well and love you more. And through pain and pride, I will stay._

_I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well._


	16. Several Ways to Die Trying

Several Ways to Die Trying

(Chapter 16)

Clutching hard, splintered wood in one hand and clasping gently, smooth silk in the other, Ron led Hermione into the bathroom in which contained the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"Wait, Ron. How do we get in? I think I remember you have to use—" Hermione began, glaring uncertainly at a seemly harmless sink.

"Parsel tongue." Ron finished, also glaring at the sink.

"Maybe we should go find Harry, and I'm sure he'll be able to—"

"What makes you think Harry's the only one who can speak parsel tongue?" Ron asked offensively, his face then instantly colored of innocent anxiety.

"You mean you can speak parsel tongue?"

"Well, I kind of practiced it after I saw how Harry did it in the forest with the…locket."

Ron fidgeted uncomfortably before introducing himself to Hermione's awe struck stare.

_You're making this impossible, Ronald Weasley._

"Ron, that's so—"

"Maybe I should see if it works before you saying anything else. I don't want you to say anything you will regret if it doesn't work. If I don't work."

Lowering himself as he spoke, Ron blushed into the entry face. When he felt his bodily temperature peak, he knew Hermione had knelt beside him, her hand finding his shoulder. Though Ron's gaze was still content with that of the sink, Hermione adoringly scanned the right side of his face, counting his freckles as she did so.

"I promise, whether it works or not, I'll still think you're amazing."

Tangling in his throat, Ron's tongue executed no response just mindless wrestling with itself on Hermione's words. Surely, he would choke on his tongue and die happily on that spot. Instead of a performing a premature death, Ron swallowed, smiled, blushed, and attempted to contain his tiresome twitching, infecting his every muscle.

"Okay, here goes nothing."

Another attempted gulp. Hermione gifted Ron an encouraging squeeze of his shoulder.

_Now how in hell am I suppose to speak parsel tongue with her so close like that?_

His first attempt sounded like a small child being straggled. Swiping some of the sweat collecting on his brow, Ron tried again with the noise improving but still resembled the resonance of some kind of dying creature. He had to complete this task; he had to show Hermione that he could achieve what Harry could. Before his next attempt, he considered the distractions obstructing his accuracy. Distraction. No plural necessary. Only one distraction remained impossible to elude or escape, that distraction of Hermione Granger.

When she reached thirty-two freckles, approximate, Hermione's mathematical lesson was interrupted by a shaky request from Ron.

"C-could—could you step a away a little. I just can't…"

_Breathe!_

Regretting the words as he relayed them, Ron noticed the sweat turned to ice on his brow now as Hermione stood but ignored it with one last attempt at snake speech.

It sounded like a cross between a gas leak and a snake but it seemed apt since it suddenly revealed the entrance to the chamber. Hermione squealed with delight as Ron stood, timidly grinning.

"Amazing. I had no doubt." Hermione announced. She grasped his arm to help elevate herself to him and placed another peck upon his sunburned cheek.

_A whole two seconds longer than Harry._

Ron's poor cheek, surely it would burn off his face at any moment.

"I'll go down first." Ron announced after finally finding his tongue at the bottom of his stomach. Hermione nodded while positioning her arm across his back causing Ron to more or less fall into the entrance than enter it.

"Ooof…" Ron mumbled after a muffled yet distinct thump.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Just great. Covered in bloody knows what but otherwise I'm just cheeky, how are you?"

Hermione only smiled as she slowly began lowering herself into the uninviting dark tunnel.

"It's okay, you can jump. I'll catch you." Ron offered. She closed her eyes briefly before accepting. He caught her easily.

"See, wasn't so bad." Although the dark had disrupted her view of her hero, she could tell that by the glow shimmering off both sides of his head assured that Ron was in fact smiling. She swallowed the temptation she relentlessly struggled with once more. Reluctantly, Ron placed her upon her feet.

"Lumos." Ron's wand illuminated, causing all sorts of sparkles to ignite in Hermione's eyes. She caught his stare, curious as to why it was there.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry."

"Got the broom?"

"Yep."

"Okay then which way?"

Automatically finding each other's hands, as if second-nature to them, as if useless without them, Ron and Hermione darted down the narrow tunnel. When a repulsive smell attacked their noses, Ron knew they were close as they turned into an opening. Then the source of the nauseating smell presented itself not ten feet from them. Hermione gasped in disgust as she turned into Ron's chest, attempting to hide her face from the awful display.

"That's really quite disgusting." She muttered into Ron's chest.

"It's alright. It's dead. I promise." Ron gently placed his hands about her waist and motioned her forward. Staring before speaking, Hermione swallowed the vomit making its way back up from her stomach.

"So, I guess we should get started." Hermione suggested hesitantly, unsure of how they were about to perform dentistry on an over-grown snake. Ron's hands remained on her waist, as he stood motionless behind her. Finally, Hermione took initiative and knelt before the basalisk, resolving in pulling the fangs out one by one. However, before she removed the first tooth, a strong arm roped across her stomach, commanding her to stand.

"What's wrong?" She inquired as his touch and warmth caused her voice to sound hoarse and forced.

Ron adored her waist, her stomach, her curves. He couldn't find enough magic in the world to move his arm. Squeezing his hold tighter at the thought of ever having to remove it, Ron then utilized his other idle hand to reveal his wand. With a bold tone and talented strokes with his wand, Ron cast a spell that directly removed a decent amount of fangs to satisfy their requirement.

"Well, I guess if you wanted to do it the easier way," Hermione whispered with a meek beam across her cheeks.

"Sorry, I just didn't want you to get Basalisk blood all over you. You smell awful enough." Ron teased. Hermione reacted with a lighthearted punch to his left side.

"Ooof. I was only joking, Hermione." Ron mumbled, relishing her contact despite its bruising. After picking up a few of the fangs, Hermione watched as Ron smugly levitated some of the fangs to himself.

With great and amused exaggeration, Ron sang whimsically, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

"Show-off." She grunted and Ron continued to smirk.

"So, should we destroy the cup? I mean, while we're here? Where nobody can…see…" Ron's voice faded when he remembered the behavior of the last Horcrux before it imploded.

"Oh, yes. Um… Maybe, you should do it." Hermione responded but noticed immediately Ron's hesitation.

"No, you should do it. You after all are the teacher." He grinned but it faded quickly when he glanced at the revealed cup.

"No, Ron. It was your idea to come down here. You should have the honors."

"No, Hermione, you deserve the honor more than I do."

"Ron, no. I wont do it. You just practiced parsel tongue and removed the teeth and…"

"And, you, Hermione Granger saved my life."

"What?"

"At the wedding, the ministry…"

"That's ridiculous, Ron, you know full well that's not true."

"Yes it is."

"No, it's not."

"Harry's life too."

"You guys would've been fine without me."

"No, frankly, we'd be dead."

"Ronald Weasley, DON'T SAY THAT!"

"I'm sorry but its true."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"I don't like you saying you or Harry's name in the same sentence of dead, death, or dying!"

"I'm sorry Hermione." Ron walked to her, which took a single stride, considering his lengthy legs. He molted her into him and pecked her forehead.

"I wont die, Hermione. I know full well if I tried, you'd kill me." Hermione giggled softly as she inhaled.

"Okay. I'll do it."

Randomly choosing the sharpest fang, Hermione then placed the cup on a decently flat surface. Clutching it like Ron's life depended on it, Hermione held the tooth in a vicious forward attack until she felt herself tingle with exhilaration. Before he noticed in which impulse his hands had acted, Ron protectively put in hands upon her hips, preparing to pull her away if the cup dared to harm her.

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't…its okay." Hermione almost caught herself objecting to his hands vacancy and asking for their warmth once more. He was staring at her in such a way that she could have sworn, something she wasn't found often practicing upon, that his expression mirrored her own feelings. Her own stare contained devout love but to have it seen staring straight back at her nearly brought her to her bottom. She had observed this look before but it was as if she actually observed it for the very first time, she was actually seeing it this time.

_Could it be?_

He stared at her beautiful un-kept curls. Beautiful, such an understatement really, but it would have to suffice until Ron decided to pick up a dictionary one day and truly find the right words, the only words to describe Hermione, if such words existed. He doubted they did.

The air was sticky, wet—humid, and tasted of rotten scales but Hermione continued to glow. Her hair clung to her forehead allowing the curls to look surreal in perfection while the rest of it remained untamed. She had the most well defined face, educated thoroughly, like everything else about her, in beauty and perfection. Then he stared at her eyes.

"J…j—just be careful." Ron uttered finally after an intense staring contest, both to stubborn to break away first and neither lucid enough to want to. His hand slid up from her waist, hovering so slightly, it could have appeared to touch. Hermione felt it nonetheless. It tickled and thrilled. Mapping her figure enticingly, Ron's hand finally arrived at its destination on her cheek. His thumb broke away from the rest of his digits, rebellious and negligent. It traced faintly discreetly the corner of Hermione's lips. He had to touch them, to confirm their existence, verify if such perfection existed.

Such perfection did.

_So turn up the corners of your lips. Part them and feel my fingertips trace the moment fall forever._

Between gasps for the forsaking air, always seeming to fail her in these moments of vitality, Hermione whispered with great effort, "Ron…"

Her eyes drifted from close to open briefly as she idolized his bottom lip, agape enough to see that his breath was finding exit and entrance. They still stood well away from each other but it felt as if he stood only a half of a fingertip away. Her eyes lingered to his neck, strong and welcoming then to his forehead damp with perspiration. The sweat glued loose and fugitive hairs to his forehead, rendering more impulses for Hermione to cling her fingers to it.

_I have to tell him._

_I have to tell her._

Death was likelihood that night, that very moment. What they feared, though, was not death, but the fear of not finding a way back into each other's arms. What they feared was not death but the fear of the other not knowing. What they feared was never knowing if the other felt the same, fearing that they wouldn't feel same. They would try; they would strive for triumph over the fear of not knowing. They would try to tell what the other did not know and try to know what they themselves did not know. They would try even if it took several ways to die trying.

"Hermione, I…"

"Y…y—yes?"

"I don't want you to…get hurt. The last Horcrux wasn't too…obliging. Maybe…maybe…I should do it." Ron moved his hand and his gaze while concern and doubt flooded Hermione's.

"Why, Ron? What happened? What happened with the locket, Ron? Harry said it screamed but really, what did it do?"

_I have to tell her._


	17. You Had Me At Basalisk

You Had Me at Basalisk

(Chapter 17)

It began with a snake.

Of the most humble beginnings, it began with this basalisk. Not too romantic in the eyes of the hopeless romantic but it remains true. Basalisk beginnings. This basalisk turned Hermione into a cold statue roughly five years ago. That time in the hospital wing, where Ron watched a statue of Hermione make a statue of his heart. At first, a young naïve, irresponsible, immature boy of one and two hardly imagined he could fancy a girl, much less the most obnoxious of them all. Because she was his best friend, he thought reasonably. What Ron failed to perceive with his young boy mind, that this best friend would become the best one of the best ones. Honestly, truthfully, could he honestly, truthfully imagine a life without Hermione and her nagging? He didn't understand it then but he understood it now. Yes, indeed, their beginning consisted of an argument, a dislike, a poor first impression, a troll, and troll boogies and yet that is what brought them together. That and this snake.

_So what if she gave Lockhart a Valentines Day card! She's such a girl! And she can be so embarrassing some times! I wonder if she gave Harry a card. I wonder if she got me one…_

_Can't believe it got Hermione! I can't believe it. I never got to ask for her help for the exams! Yeah, and I guess I forgot to tell her how nice it is to have her around even though she can be so annoying and smart and…pretty?_

_Ha! They can make Hermione an unstatue! I don't think that's a word but oh well. Hermione's going to be okay! I can't imagine…not having her around. I mean who would help me with my homework? I couldn't be happier right now even if the Cannons just won the Quidditch Cup! _

_Blast that Lockhart. Mindless, spineless git he was. Can't see why Hermione liked him… _

Some might be inclined to point out that this snake could have only been a beginning for Ron but will stand corrected if one would recollect Hermione's basalisk beginnings.

It began with her march out of the library and back toward the common room. With stern steps of serious intent to severely scold Ronald Weasley for ever doubting and teasing her, Hermione absentmindedly played with her disorderly and disobedient hair. Spending nearly two whole excruciating hours in the library scanning every book she could lay eyes upon, she studied and searched every one of those books for a solution to Harry's hearing voices problem while occasionally drifting off subject to discover on new solutions to Ron's broken wand problem. She knew it to be hopeless, she, however didn't understand then why she continued to search for a resolution for Ron. She hadn't understood it then but she understood it now.

_Selfish, ungrateful, red beacon, boy! All I do is give, give, give! Then again, he didn't ask for your help Hermione. So? Look what happened the last time he tried to use it! When he defended me…_

Hermione didn't fancy not knowing an answer nor in no possession of one when presented with a question. She also didn't fancy the idea spending her time to assist Ron with his less important issues than Harry who in fact appreciated and needed her help more so. Finally, after her eyes throbbed with the entire running along the lines of the pages and her head ached with all those lines overloading her mind's shelves, she discovered information on the basalisk. Rebuking herself for wasting valuable research on the most infuriating red headed boy, she followed a Ravenclaw girl and exited the library in search for Harry.

Wordlessly disowning Ron, Hermione continued her stride, unhearing the sinister hiss around the corner.

'_Could I borrow that?' I asked the girl whom I followed out of the library. She was carrying a mirror. Who she was trying to impress I couldn't imagine, there wasn't a single decent looking boy here. I was going to need that mirror if I was going to protect myself from any basalisk. 'Sure.' She said. Ick. I always look awful. Oh, well its not like I'm trying to impress anyone…it was protection. But I just had to look into it, didn't I?_

_Thank goodness, I found something for Harry though. He appreciates me. But I wish maybe, I don't know…Ron! The selfish, ungrateful, CLUELESS, IRRESPONSIBLE, red beacon, boy! Would somehow appreciate me. Notice me… Maybe if weren't for this awful hair of mine…_

With one last futile attempt to generate order to her unruly mane for who and why only Merlin knows with the aid of the mirror, there she met the eyes of the basalisk.

He had saved her life. Though she wouldn't admit such truths until after she had awoken from her stone-like state.

The most humble of beginnings in the most unusual circumstances.

Would it end though? Their dizzying dance of avoiding, of denying, and of fearing?

_If it's got to end then let it end in flames. Let it burn._

"Well, it…it…like I said…it made my worst fears…reality." Ron fixed his orbs on the floor on which Hermione stood. She ached to press him further for more detail than his predictable waltz around them.

_Coward, TELL HER!_

"Will the cup do that? Is that why you're…scared?" Hermione loathed in asserting the words scared and Ron in the same sentence scared as to what effect it may have upon Ron's temperament. No effect. He stood unaffected as if the words came and left unheard.

Fearing not but her safety at this instant but Ron feared Hermione will not possess the same astronomical fear as his own. He feared that her fear would consist of her parents, most assuredly, and then that fear of Harry. Had she reserved some space in her fear department for him? Ron feared that Hermione hadn't fear at all for him. If that be the case, he wouldn't withstand it without withholding his own fear as hers or the lack thereof would surely destroy him. She would destroy the cup and Ron along with it if that held true.

"It might. But I'm only scared for your safety." Ron allowed his hands to crumble into crushed bone at his side.

"Oh, great Ron. Now I really can't wait to stab it."

"Well, you asked."

"Well, maybe I don't want to do it now."

"What? Are you scared?"

"If you can, I have every right to be!"

"That's not what I meant!"

"Well, it sure sounded like it!"

"Listen to us Hermione, arguing in the middle of a war for Merlin sake!"

"Don't swear!"

"Coming from a girl who called me an arse!"

"Because you were!"

"And I said I was sorry!"

"I know…" Hermione paused commencing more of her infamous trembling. "I'm…I'm sorry."

"No. I'm sorry. I'm scared because what it did to me…"

"Just tell me, Ron. You can trust me. You know that right?"

"I know...it's just that…"

"Was it something about Harry?"

"Sort of."

"For Merlin sake Ron just tell me."

"Don't swear."

"Ronald Weasley…"

"I promise I'll tell you…if you stab the cup."

Hermione crossed her arms.

"After what you just told me?"

"Don't worry," Ron reached his hand out and offered it to her. "I'm here."

"Fine. But you promised Ronald Weasley." She ignored his hand, slightly stubborn and briefly annoyed and quickly rotated her attention.

_I love it when she says my full name._

_I hate it when he tells me what to do. It makes me want to kiss him. Something awful._

"Be careful…please." Ron repeated, remaining at a distance. Hermione gulped and before she reconsidered and overanalyzed the situation, she thrust the fang into the cup's center.

Dropping the tooth as it began to vibrate hotly, Hermione stepped back fearing as to what the cup might reveal as Ron discreetly feared exactly the same thing.

_If it is born in flames then we should let it burn, burn as brightly as we can._

_But if it's got to end then let it end in flames. Let it burn._

_All the way down._


	18. Like A Phoenix

A/N: You must loathe me. I loathe me. I apologize. I pray this will make up for it.

Like A Phoenix

(Chapter 18)

Could they really doubt now after all that they have endured, enduring together, could they really doubt the other's feelings?

Maybe due to the reason this was the rest of their lives that they're speaking of, the heart and soul. Such things cannot be taken lightly and Ron and Hermione had the somewhat understanding of this. A simple yet eminent, imperative confirmation or declination could decide the rest of their life. Love is not something to take lightly. Does one wear combat boots on glass?

Whether or not they could fully comprehend this, they knew to an extent that their entire existence depended upon the others reply to their own indefinable love.

Love was such an intimidating, big word for Ron that he couldn't be sure he could declare it to Hermione.

Love was such an unreadable, indefinable word for Hermione that she couldn't be sure she could read it in Ron.

Was it not evident that the grounds of why they couldn't stand each other was in fact because they couldn't stand living without them?

What would convince them of such obvious truths? Surely not a cup born to tare people apart, however, fear can be a fickle thing. Fear in most general cases weakens the courage but however in this instance fear revealed that which has been concealed for far too long.

So, what is it that Hermione Granger feared the most?

First appeared her parents, an awful image of Tom Riddle-Bellatrix torturing to them to their death, emerging from the open gap in the cup. Hermione stumbled a step backwards, eyes wide and believing.

"Mom, dad…?"

Her voice failed as the their screams grew in volume. With eyes streaming of tears, Hermione watched, her mouth screaming of terror.

Then appeared the image of Harry. He was shriveling under a torture curse from a shadowed figure apparent as Voldemort but before he imploded into Harry bits, his voice shrieked deafly at Hermione who began to surrender her knees to the cold stone floor.

'You, you failed as a friend, Hermione. You failed me, now all the world will pay.'

"No, no, no. NO!"

It was all too real. Before her knees crashed to the ground, Ron caught her by the waist, attempting to steady her trembling. A task not easy to complete as it was impossible enough to contain his own shaking.

"Hermione its…"

His voice also failed him.

Then all shaking ceased when Ron observed himself in Tom Riddle's twisted form. She began to sob as she watched her furthermost fear play before her.

With the utmost malevolent grin, there stood Ron Riddle, arms crossed and staring wickedly into Hermione, into her inmost being like an invisible hand stretched from his eyes and grabbed her heart.

'I was only nice to you for Harry's sake but you're not worth anything to me. I don't know why I ever put up with you. Who would ever love a bossy stubborn witch like you? You don't deserve me. All you deserve is maybe the second edition of Hogwarts A History that tells all the adventures of Ron and Harry. I could never love you. I would never stoop so low to love a mudblood. I would never love you mudblood, never love you.'

He had expected the images of the parents, of Harry, but of him…

Unlike Ron in the forest, her scream could not be contained in her small, delicate frame.

"NO!"

It struck Ron like the screams he heard that night in the Manor. It awoke him. Quaking like a human earthquake, Hermione sobbed uncontrollably as the image of Ron grew larger and closer to them. The fabrication was winning.

Her cries were desperate, frantic, and in between the gaps of her sobs.

"No! No!"

'I don't see why Bellatrix…'

"Hermione…"

'You were never much to us…'

"Hermione…stab it again…"

'Ha! I was only nice to you…'

"Hermione it's not real…Hermione it's not real…"

'You don't deserve me.'

"Hermione it's lying…I do love you…"

'I would never stoop so low to love a mudblood'

"I love you, Hermione, do you hear me? I love you…"

Was it Ron? Was it real? Was this real? No, it couldn't be real. What was more real to her?

"_Looks like no matter how hard we try we can't seem to keep them away from each other. Like they were meant to be by each others side."_

"_I didn't want to leave you."_

"_I'm here."_

"Hermione, I'm here, please just stab cup."

'_Hermione…Hermione…I will stay."_

_I love you, Hermione. _

_Just make it stop!_

Nearly tripping over her feet and puddles of her tears, she stole the nearest fang and stabbed again as her voice shrieked in desperate anger, frantic frustration, and complete confusion at which voices were real and which were the unreal fabrication of the cup's bidding.

Hermione found herself on all fours, begging for air and relentlessly continuing to sob.

_Oh please say its over. Please say its over, say its over, say its over…_

Her head throbbed and the blood clotted her fingertips, causing them to feel like she wore numb cemented gloves. Something found its way around her waist again which triggered horror within Hermione as she realized that Ron still remained, that Ron had witnessed her utmost worst fear. Stumbling to her feet and as far away as her unsteady posture would allow, Hermione swiped the remaining tears off her cheeks, sniffed bitterly, and turned to face Ron with blood-shot eyes.

"You knew. YOU KNEW! That would happen!"

"Hermione, no, I wasn't sure—"

"YOU KNEW! DON'T LIE to me!"

"Hermione, NO! It wasn't like that at all, I just—"

"You just what? Wanted a good laugh? Well, I hope you enjoyed the show!"

"Hermione! That's not why—"

"You humiliated me?"

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" Ron shouted back, unable to his actual thoughts on the situation that had lay before him.

Utterly ashamed and frightened, Hermione had begun soft cries again with an expression poisoned with humiliation. Ron advanced toward Hermione. Frightened, she backed away.

"I don't believe…"

She closed her eyes, surely knowing what was to follow.

_He's about to make my worst fear a reality, isn't he? He's just going to prove that cup was right. What a fool I must be to think he could ever love me…_

"That you think you don't deserve me."

Her bottom lip shook as did the rest of her being.

"Hermione, I don't deserve you."

She opened her eyes.

"You deserve the world and beyond, never me. I could never deserve you, Hermione."

Discovering her new position against the wall with Ron pressed gently against her, cornering her, Hermione burrowed through Ron's eyes. His eyes were wet and his face, compassionate and fraught. Inhaling briefly, Ron delicately tucked Hermione's cheek in the covers of his hand.

"Amazing, beautiful, Hermione. Smartest, wisest, most maddening witch in the world. How could you ever believe you couldn't deserve anyone? Deserve anything? You deserve so much more than what you are given. How could you ever, EVER, doubt that? I really can't believe you're not smart enough to see that. It's the most bloody ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

Realizing his new promising position against Hermione, a position where she couldn't escape and find Harry, her lips wet and welcoming, her faultless body against his, Ron stuttered in breath and speech. He backed away slightly, recognizing and denying his improper and greatly influential impulse's persuasion.

"I wasn't sure it was going to do the same thing. I had an idea, yes, but I didn't want to scare you. I wanted you…I wanted…you deserved to be able to destroy a horcrux and you deserve so much more but that's all I could give you. I am afraid that's all I could give you."

The wetness inhabiting in his eyes traveled out of them and down his cheeks.

"My…the locket…it showed my mum liking Harry better…then it…it showed you. You…wanted Harry. Said that you loved him and that I would never deserve you, that I could never could compare to the chosen one or the Boy Who Lived. It showed…an image like the cup…of you and Harry…snogging. You said, the picture, you…said I am nothing compared to Harry. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing… It's true. I'm not as brave, as smart as Harry. You're wrong. You deserve more than me, Hermione and I'm afraid that's true."

"Stop it." Hermione muttered as she lifted her gaze to meet Ron's. "Stop it."

Her face a liquid livid, she advanced toward Ron. Frightened, he backed away.

"How dare you!"

_This is it. This is where my fears come true. She's going to tell me that it's true and that how could I ever want her when she knows she deserves at least a little a better than me. This is it then, isn't it? _

"How could you ever think that me…and Harry. That's just…GROSS! He's like my brother!"

Ron now resided in the same position Hermione found herself a few moments ago as she pressed him against the wall.

"HOW THICK CAN YOU BE?"

Ron swallowed as her face drew closer as her voice drew higher and harder in rage.

"How could you ever think that? Gosh, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Ronald Weasley you may not be 'the chosen one' but I chose you. I chose you, for goodness sake! And to think you thought me and Harry Potter! I can't believe you! I really, really can't believe you! That is bloody ridiculous. The 'boy who lived'? No, no, unfortunately 'the most infuriating boy that ever lived' is for me. The bravest, kindest, most passionate, boy who ever lived. The most ridiculous, thick-headed, prat in the entire world! But you're my ridiculous, thick-headed, prat in the entire world. My goodness, Harry Potter? Why have Harry Potter when I could have you? Bloody hell, Ron!"

They stood against the wall, their figures so close they could feel the blood raging through the other's veins. To make the point entirely clear, Hermione had resolved in pointing her pointer finger and poking it into Ron's chest. Poke. Poke.

_At least it's better than those bloody awful punches or birds. Not that this wont bruise._

"The most ridiculous…" poke, " thick-headed" poke, "prat" poke, "in the entire world." Poke. Poke.

This is how one Hermione Granger says to one Ronald Weasley in her own special Hermione manner that she was irrevocably in love with him.

"BLOODY HELL!"

That also.

Poke.

Swallowing, Ron replied finally after staring at the red with disbelief Hermione finished her prodding and permanently making a physical mark upon himself.

"Don't swear, Hermione."

Slowly as chuckles came from the odd couple, it soon escalated to laughter, inexcusable laughter, overflowing, overwhelming with inconceivable and incredible, and immense, vast relief.

"Hermione Granger you are the smartest dumbest person I've ever known."

That, dear friends, is one Ronald Weasley's reply of affection that undoubtedly announces his own love to one Hermione Granger.

Her hair askew, her cheeks a flush so red they glowed, and her eyes of such sparkle, of light, and of hope it was found impossible for Ron not to stare, impolite and inhuman as well.

He straightened his stance in attempts to make conditions more suitable for staring down and into the face of his entire existence's redemption. He tipped towards her.

"Hermione…"

_My heart is yours to fill or burst to break or bury or wear as jewelry whichever you prefer._

Their sticky foreheads met in unison, their faces entirely too close for breathing to be permitted. After a few moments of little thought and little air, when their noses had finally also met, Ron briefly wet his bottom lip. His eyes drifted close. Gently caressing her nose with his, attempting so weakly to stay within sanity's range, Ron allowed his hands glide over her hips, finally condemning sanity to hell.

Hermione hummed. She could taste his breath as it stole sanity and sense from her, leaving her defenseless and excuseless. Gliding her own hand, as if by nature and not by demand, Hermione allowed her hand to trickle up Ron's arm seductively. His hair stood on end. She then gripped his bicep as invitation for him to move closer.

He obeyed.

"Hermione…"

_The way he says my name leaves me motionless like I'm under a binding spell. Wonderful, breathtaking, spell…_

She wanted him to finally confirm his feelings, for her to reaffirm her own in one taste, one last gesture that could allow her to love without doubt.

_My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me. So won't you kill me? So I die happy._

His breath was closer now, if possible. She could feel it hovering her own slightly gaping mouth screaming to be touched—to be ratified. Just as she felt his lush lip faintly—so faintly—touch the tip of her top lip, every inch of tingled and writhed in such lovely waltzes, her stomach upon her feet, and her heart, heaven only knows, Ron whispered into her mouth. Hermione wanted everything in the world to slap him for disrupting the moment but then recognized her inability to mobilize under Ron's spell.

"Promise me something."

"Anything." She replied before thinking, though that wasn't much of an option at the moment. The singular word left her mouth in a breath and Ron inhaled it then lived in it.

_All I want is for you to want me._

"Don't die."

"I wont if you wont."

"Don't say that."

"Its true. I don't think I could live without you."

"I know I can't live without you."

"I need you, Hermione."

"I need you too, Ron."

_For you to need me._

He could feel the tears now.

_Could she really love me? Really love me? This is too great to believe, too great._

_Does he really love me? I mean really love me? This is just too great to believe._

_Then ask her, idiot. Tell her, you thick-head prat._

_Then ask him, you dumb know-it-all._

Suddenly their grips gripped further. Ron's hand burning in the curve of her lower back and hip, burning imprint that Hermione could feel in her bones. She tightened her hand around his upper arm muscle, smoldering a handprint that Ron could feel everywhere.

They wouldn't let each other escape now. No excuses. Just need.

They needed to know and there was only a solitary fashion in which to find answer.

With the perfect position, Ron and Hermione had their preparations sorted for such excursion to find that knowledge and all that remained to complete before traveling into such awareness one merely had to tip an inch and surely their lips would collide. They would collide then they would know and know without a doubt. There would be no room for it.

Like a phoenix, they would rise from their mistakes and miss steps, how often they avoided the unavoidable, denying that which cannot be denied.They fell in ashes when they denied, avoided, and lied to the other but will they rise?

_If it is born in flames then we should let it burn, burn as brightly as we can._

Impeccably impressive timing, a loud and interrupting noise approached the couple from within the tunnel. Their eyes immediately flew open as response and awareness as they nervously stumbled away from each other.

"W-what was that?" Hermione stuttered.

"I don't know, but, blimey Hermione, it looks like they've started the party without us." Ron responded with a spellbinding grin. Hermione had the most difficult time finding an excuse not to jump Ron and snog his face off.

_The way he just stands there with that half smile drives me mad! I just…maybe if I…because if we…and I don't…Ah! No. Not in front of the basalisk!_

"We should probably find Harry." Ron suggested with the offer of his hand. She accepted the offer and with the thieving of more fangs and facts of their beloved's feelings, they bounded for the exit. When they reached this exit, Hermione gazed up at its height then gazed questioningly at Ron. Ron responded with a pointed gesture toward the broom he still obtained. Smiling meaningfully, Hermione straddled the broom behind Ron, fixating a firm encompass of her arms about his flawlessly carved stomach and waist. She adored his waist, his stomach, his warmth. She wanted it to be hers, she wanted him to be hers, and she wanted to know whether he would allow such ownership.

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering…" They appeared again in the bathroom where sounds of war became more apparent. How much had they made themselves oblivious to during those moments within the chamber? Surely nothing as important as what could have occurred outside than what occurred inside the chamber.

"What's wrong Hermione?" His hand was upon hers again, leading her in directions where Harry might materialize.

"What does this mean?"

"Well, it means we just destroyed another Horcrux and we're one step closer…"

"No, Ron." _Poor Ron, always so oblivious. _"I meant…about us."

_You've noticed it too then? Good because I'm going to show you Hermione, just as I drop this broom and fangs, I'll do something I've wanted to do for years, showing you something I've wanted to tell you for even longer…_

Hermione noticed a singular most significant glimmer of idea in his eyes at what she was attempting to suggest, and for the briefest of moments, she thought she was about to receive what she had only hoped for since before her memory had memory.

_He's going to kiss isn't he? Finally, I'll be able to SHOW him what I really…_

"Where the hell have you two been?"


	19. If This Be Insanity

A/N: So I am the devil. This took an eternity to write. Again, it's a two-part POV and I SWEAR upon the things I do not rightfully own that Ron's point of view will be up soon. I pray this satisfies.

Definitions

Femosecond – 1/16 of a second

Realty – real estate, home, or property

If This Be Insanity

(Chapter 19)

_Bloody Harry Potter!_

His hand disappeared from hers. Ron gave illusion, as did Hermione, to Harry, to themselves that last few moments had no effect upon them. They gave illusion that their hands were never glued in entanglement.

"Chamber of secrets," Ron replied with a brief longing glance at Hermione. His face and expression turned from disappointment to elation when he noticed Hermione's small yet champion smile.

Maybe the last few minutes weren't an illusion. If this be the case, Ron considered, why should he continue that illusion where nothing astronomical had occurred a minute ago?

"It was Ron! All Ron's idea!" Apparently, Hermione hadn't fancied the idea of eluding her elation either. Illusions were ill needed. She had believed in illusions and lived among them but no more. Nothing was more real to her in that moment than Ron. Her Ron.

"Something to get rid of the Horcruxes," Ron added simply.

"But how did you get in there? You need to speak parseltongue!" Harry inquired and Hermione responded to it faster than a crazed child craving chocolate.

"He did! Show him, Ron!"

He obeyed.

"It's what you did to open the locket. I had to have a few goes to get it right but we got there in the end," Ron explained with a shrug.

"He was amazing! Amazing!" Hermione exclaimed, wanting more than just Harry Potter to declare this simple yet fantastic fact to anyone who'd pay mind.

_Hermione Granger, you can sure pick 'em! _

She continued to stare at him, concerning herself with the occasional glance at Harry to assure he was paying well attention of Ron's declared greatness. Otherwise, she paid good fortune attention of Ron and his red hair, red ears, and red lips…

Was she serious?

During a time of war, during the wizardry world's peak in history, she, Hermione Granger, former Gryffindor prefect, straight 'A' student before she even attended school, has actually, finally deluded herself of system, of policy, of reason, of sanity? Has she finally turned human?

Or was she crazy?

_Am I crazy? That after all the years of stern schedules and strict rules, I have left them all in the chamber? That even if there are people dying above us, beside us, behind us, that I one thing I want more, need more, is to make sure that Ronald Weasley knows what exactly I feel? Crazy? Insane!_

"So what's new with you?"

_Hold it together Hermione! You've mastered years of self-control, it can't all come crumbling down on you now!_

Oh, the times she bit her tongue, the times she imprisoned her tears behind eyelids, her screams inside pillows, the times she stared into books instead of the blue eyed alternative, all for the sake to deny Ronald Weasley the pleasure of knowing.

_He needs to know soon or I might explode._

Harry rapidly relayed his discoveries when an explosion followed by scream bade them haste. With that haste, the trio quickly arrived back at the Room of Requirement.

Desperately wanting Ron's comforting hands among hers once more, Hermione watched Ron warily as he watched Harry give instruction to his sister. Ron remained in the state of seriousness and readiness, his face concerned and mature.

As if he could feel her gaze, he turned his attention to Hermione and gave her a reassuring lopsided grin. Hermione knew the distant crumbling and crunching sound came from her disintegrating leg joints. With both arms full of stinky teeth, Hermione understood that even if they stood but a child shoe size away they were just out of each other's reach.

_Blasted basalisk fangs! Did we really need so many? Oh, listen to you, Hermione. Your behavior is absolutely insane… It's unreasonable… _

Hermione attempted the hopeless mission to concentrate as she watched Ginny follow Tonks out of sight. She immediately felt for Harry and obvious state of mind as his face was obviously frantic and fearful.

"You've got to come back in!" He cried after Ginny.

Hermione understood. He didn't want to lose his reason to live through this forsaken war. She aimed to comfort him and give assurance that Ginny would be safe as Harry and herself ventured toward their fate. But she caught Ron's stare.

His limp yet evocative as ever grin still slightly plastered along the right side of his cheek as his eyes unabashedly ran along Hermione's figure. Suddenly aware of his eye's surveillance, Hermione flushed and became exaggeratedly self-conscious. Then his ocean eyes glinted with insight like he just remembered something.

"Hang on a moment!" Ron exclaimed, almost making Hermione release all of her arm's contents. "We're forgetting someone!"

"Who?" Hermione asked, incredulous while gathering the dust of her joints.

_This is not like you, Hermione…_

"The house elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, wont they?"

Hermione knew he hadn't meant for them to fight but to free them of the fate that they themselves were bound for. He wasn't the same boy who thought everything she dwelt upon was loony. He understands and he wants to understand and his acting on this understanding!

All the blood sprinted to her fingers and toes and her head swam with desire. Ronald Weasley was the boy she had waited for and now was the man she wanted. The man she needs and definitely needed to reveal her own understanding of his new found glory.

Dire desire so dominant it nearly destroys her.

_No. Not in front of Harry…_

"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" Harry asked apparently unaware of Hermione's crimson color and incredible shaking.

_It's downright ridiculous…_

"No," Ron replied, wholly sincere, so irresistibly genuine…

_Not to mention utterly and inexcusably insane…_

"I mean we should tell them to get out…"

Hermione didn't hear nor feel much else after the words house elves. Only her well educated head rebuking her heart's ill reasoning for snogging someone in midst of a war.

But what the head could not understand was that love does things for reasons reason cannot understand.

_Nope, this is ridiculous. Because I'm still standing way over here. _

_Why in hell am I still standing here? _

Just like that, in matter of seconds, Hermione's entire reputation of rational thinking and behavior, continually accurate, stern, austere, and conservative, had been compromised and disregarded. So beautifully abandoned.

_Sanity be damned._

Finally.

She must've dropped something because the weight upon her shoulders and back had lifted…something heavier than basalisk fangs…reason. She lived by reason and quite honestly, reason had been more taxing than any homework provided by a potions teacher.

She must've dropped her denial.

She had denied her devotion to the demeaning redhead.

She must've dropped her reasoning.

She must've dropped all the excuses she formulated over the years.

She dropped them and let them break.

Finding his lips must have been the easiest act she had ever acted on, finding his lips had been the hardest thing to resist but now the most effortless thing to continue—for evermore. 

She tasted his taste and if heaven had a taste, it lay upon Ron's lips. Hermione had no doubt.

In most situations, lips might act awkward to its new and firm position but in Miss Granger's case, her lips knew exactly how to mold and melt. They weren't hesitant or feeble or timid. They encompassed and molted, smoldered. Since when had she ever became expert in the case of kissing, she hadn't the slightest clue but it seemed to work because the encompassing, tasting, swallowing was returned.

Returned wonderfully.

His lips full and lustfully lush, savoring of sweet saliva and yearning. His lips had fully stolen control of the battling and encircling. Inhaling him, his breath, his flavor, Hermione felt herself lift off the floor. Whether it be a that infamous cloud nine or Ron entirely placing his entire life into the kiss now while lifting her up, Hermione didn't know and cared much less. She only cared of his impossibly close warmth, his incredibly feverish touch, and most importantly, his brilliantly able lips.

Though his hands remained in the seductive area on her back and his other hand across her shoulder and up her hair, she could feel him everywhere, in her skin, her bones, and what organs were still functioning.

Her body seemed to gasp then convulse when another part of Ron's mouth faintly slipped through her lips, tasting her teeth. She returned this gesture so enthusiastically she almost bit the inside of his bottom lip.

For numerous years, how the two argued with sharp tongues and venomousness teeth however when at last their stubborn tongues collided and touched physically, a new argument ensued. How well they argued verbally, hardly compared to how well argued here actually mouth to mouth.

As soon as Hermione began her rebuttal, Ron couldn't be more delighted with this latest dispute. So delighted he gripped and tugged her chocolate curls to release his gratitude. His grip then widened and his large hand gripped the back of her head into her scalp emphatically, entrusting permanent fingerprints. All the while, his other hand traveled slightly farther down her back.

He hoped he hadn't frightened her for a femosecond but when Hermione nearly yanked all of the hairs inhabiting the nape of his neck he continued to pull her body into him. Evidently, she was satisfied as much as he and if he dared to decelerate she would be sure to deny it.

Teeth against teeth and tongue against tongue. This argument was their finest one to date.

Not many thoughts passed through their minds during that delayed fifteen and a half seconds, other than the unison of one or two words for a greater portion of those few glorious seconds.

_Merlin's._

_Pants._

Then, Hermione heard that small voice of reasoning in the far corner of her mind.

But it said something different.

_If this be insanity, find me realty and make it official._

_Because I'm home._


	20. Crazy Isn't Such a Lonely Place

Crazy Isn't Such a Lonely Place

(Chapter 20)

There, he noticed it again. Something upon their features, their posture, and their eyes that betrayed the illusion they attempted to relay. Harry perceived it once before and he saw it so concentrated now. When Hermione uttered the words amazing in the general subject of Ron's heroism, Harry noticed again that they looked and acted…oddly relieved.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It's what you did to open the locket. I had to have a few goes to get it right but we got there in the end," Ron explained with a shrug.

_I had to have a few goes to get it right but we got there in the end. Wasn't that the truth? _

In more than just referring to parseltongue speech.

"He was amazing! Amazing!" Hermione proclaimed.

Ron had the difficult task of swallowing the boulder occupying the space in his trachea. If he wasn't careful it would roll out and into a proclamation he hadn't intended for Harry to witness.

As Hermione watched Harry watch Ginny leave the required room, Ron soothed his severe adrenaline with the medication that was Hermione. The cordial intoxication of the simple things like the small rips in her robe that revealed the slightest bit of skin, heaven to him, medicated him. He could swear, which came effortlessly to him, that every distinguishable appearance of her skin, he could swear it was like seeing it for the first time.

The first time he noticed, their fifth year had already approached and both he and Hermione awaited Harry's arrival to Grimmauld place the following night. At first, his aim that evening was to eavesdrop on the Order but he happened to pass the room where Hermione stayed. And at first, he aimed to invite her to his escapade but when he poked his head through the door, he noticed—saw her skin for the very first time.

"Uh, Hermione?"

Hermione squealed her typical Hermione squeal, cursing him in the only Hermione cursing way, which technically wasn't cursing at all only relentless reprimand for scaring her. He pretended to listen but he only found it possible to stare. Her nightgown consisted of next to nothing. She wore the tightest possible tank-top and the shortest possible shorts. Then he noticed her skin, was graced with a glimpse of her skin for the first time. Sure, he observed the skin on her hands and on face but without those layers of robes and clothing hiding her skin, this was a new kind of skin to him. He sometimes watched, stared when she wore those overshadowing robes or long sleeve shirts but this new skin sent him into next week. The way the old, webbed candles illuminated her figure created a striking glow upon that skin.

"Yes, Ron?" She had asked sounding slightly irritated by his sudden appearance then his sudden silence.

Skin. All that skin. Beautiful skin…

Ron thought momentarily the possibility of finding some sort of ridiculous excuse to enter the room, sit next to her on her bed, and accidentally touch that skin. Before the inevitable blush followed such fantasies, he quickly bade her goodnight and exited. His face burned, his eyes watered, and his imagination reeled. He did not sleep well that night.

This night, he ached again only to brush against that little skin revealed in the little rip across her shoulder, even if accidental brush or every bit intentional, he still ached. When it came to Herbology class and all the things that were bade observation, Ron was helpless. However, when it came to that class of Hermione, observations ranging from the wonderful scene of her under the glow of meager candles, her partially bare legs stretched across her bed, her slender arms grasping none other than a History of Hogwarts, her untied curls lying across those almost bare shoulders. Those observations and classes Ron always aced. An O every time.

_Bloody hell, I must be crazy for thinking about this in the middle of bloody war for Merlin sake._

He could not live without that skin, or that wit, or wisdom that lied within, he could not and would not. The wisdom, the wit, or the skin, whether it befell accidentally, Ron aimed to live for it every bit intentionally.

_Why did she fear my dying above everything else? Bloody idiot she is. Bloody lucky bloke I am. Can she really be so stupid and love a stupid git like me? Okay, so love is a bit of stretch, but still, like me? If she dies… I don't know what will happen to me. The Malfoy Manor was bloody too much...and if it weren't for Dobby, I don't know what I…Dobby! The house-elf! All of the house-elves!_

"Hang on a moment! We're forgetting someone!"

How could he forget? Ronald Weasley does not forget promises, only miss places them, time to time, but he does not forget them especially ones that assisted in saving Hermione's life and much, much less his own.

"Who?"

Her brown eyes swallowed him but he miraculously found voice.

"The house-elves!"

It sounded cumbersome and clumsy coming from his lips, maybe because of his obvious distaste for their rat like demented appearance and smell. Honestly, they were never rather important to him nor would they usually appear on his list of priorities during a war. However, they became important when they saved the most important thing to him.

Ron gazed at his best mate incredulously, dubious to his forgetfulness of the beloved elves while quickly stealing a gaze at Hermione. Her reaction differed from that of Harry. Her face guised as if she was in pain, as if she might explode at any moment. Misreading the lines of her furrowed forehead, Ron rapidly explained his every bit intentional intentions.

While he explained, he observed both of his friend's expressions. Harry's remained dense and Hermione's shifted to colors Ron never knew complexions could contain, shifting to colors of the rainbow and beyond. Then the pained expression fell, her clenched fists fell from their grip, and her shoulders fell, no longer bearing a burden of some kind. All colors fell also with the exception of a flame like blue shade. Never had Ron beheld such a color before him nor such an expression. Like every bit of those perfectly constructed defenses of her mind, her thoughts, had finally been breached. As if in that brief moment, Hermione's face was a book. So readily readable that no one could miss read the intentions of that book, feelings of that book.

They both excelled in hiding their feelings from one another but now Hermione's lay so plainly across her face in a blue flame of desire and determination.

_Am I crazy or is she running at me to…to…_

Ron was never much of a reader; therefore, this left him with little practice in the art of speed-reading. The words, the lines, the book itself came all too quickly at him, he couldn't be sure of what to do with it. It all came too quickly for Ron because before he could slowly comprehend the words, lines, and the book itself, it had suddenly resulted in just showing him.

Hermione gave up in trying to tell and resulted in show.

Now he was sure.

Now he understood. He could read it so clearly now and he so felt it now and doubly so.

Finally.

_You kissed me like you meant it._

_And I knew that you meant it._

She pressed so intently, so purposefully, he could feel the each line, crease, and crevasse of her lips. The initial shock wore off in matter of a sixteenth of a moment before he returned the hunger, the need, the want. The show and tell.

He already wanted to feel more. His right hand automatically found its home on perfect mold of her back. Ron clenched her back with his fingertips, leaving fingerprints. Disbelieving all his imagining had not come close to the actuality, Ron glimpsed sparks behind closed eyelids.

Sparks?

Some would say sparks appeared but sparks? Sparks are sparks. They are a brief and inadequate example to this veracity. They are inadequate to explain such a pivotal moment as this. One's partner for their rest of their lives, the person one would most ardently spend the rest of their breaths for, one would expect more than sparks. No thanks. Consider, maybe, an eternal firework display, a lighting spell to ignite darkened skies. Consider the possibility of an explosion of the best of sorts. Consider what one wants just anything other than sparks.

_I must be crazy because this can't be happening._

It was in absolute actuality. A few seconds further into the kiss, Ron's other hand slid gracefully up her arm, vacuuming the feel of her skin in between those rips. Up to her neck, his hand then went. He tickled the small hairs on the back of her neck while his entire being seemed to whimper at the lush feel of the skin and cartilage he so hungrily grasped. When his hand elevated into her hair, Ron could feel his pulse in the tips of his fingers.

He needed more, curious—dying for taste.

He attempted his already outrageous good fortune with a gesture of his tongue through her lips, brushing faintly the inside of her bottom lip, and touching briefly her teeth.

She did not rebuke him or relentlessly reprimand him. Soon he introduced himself more intimately with her reprimanding, demanding, bossy mouth. Not a line, crease, nor crevasse of her lips continued unread.

And so they argued.

Somewhere, in a distant world, where Harry Potter actually existed, Ron could hear him calling them back but Ron pretended not to understand. He wanted to remain in this world where only Hermione existed or where war did not loom…just her lips...only her lips.

A war? Oh, blimey, I remember.

"Oi! There's a war going on here!"

_So what if I am crazy. I think I like crazy. If I'm crazy, Hermione's crazy. I don't mind that, no, not all. Crazy isn't such a lonely place. Hell, I think I'll set up camp._

_And I knew that you meant it._


	21. Dying To Live

A/N: The last handful of chapters were inspired by two songs. Dashboard Confessional's Hands Down, apparently, and the most influential however happened not to be a Chris Carrabba creation. Colly Strings by Manchester Orchestra. Notice how the lyrics fit so well. They seem to say what I failed to write.

_I sincerely saw your skin for the very first time_

_My curly hair and a voting booth,_

_Confessedly, this is the first time I've loved you,_

_And God I mean, God I mean it, I hope that I mean it_

_'Cause like dying young, idols got the best of me,_

_Well don't stop calling, you're the reason I love losing sleep,_

_And the building collapse, we'll shop one for something_

_I'll stick it at our skin, pierced for something_

_Besides, don't release me until it's over_

_And besides, you can't believe without fear_

_And besides, you can't believe without fear_

Dying To Live

(Chapter 21)

"I know mate," Ron mustered enough oxygen to respond. He found it very difficult not to audibly sigh. A very un-like masculine sigh, mind you.

Breathless, Ron watched as Hermione gradually began to reveal her eyes. It seemed as though that she still clung to the memory of his lips, clinging quite stubbornly, of course. Her arms, and his as well, also clung, so stubbornly. Hermione blazed red. Not the red resembling a blush, but a red resembling fire. Maybe this was due to the unexpected and sudden lack of oxygen to her face and body. Whether that be the case or whether it be the passionate fervor had fully surfaced in the only appropriate color to symbolize its magnitude.

"I guess it's now or never then," Ron voiced once more.

_Funny, its like I was thinking the same thing just a second ago,_ Hermione thought as she shyly removed her hands from their entanglement from Ron's neck and hair.

Throbbing beautifully, Ron's head and veins galloped with that color that so wonderfully colored Hermione's face while Hermione felt inescapably dizzy. Like someone cast a minimizing spell upon her, placed her in her mother's blender, and put the blending on high. Yet, this kind of dizzy was a bearable kind of dizzy, a kind of dizzy she hoped to feel again and again. She aimed to one day be dizzy again, eternally dizzy as an eventual objective. How silly that must sound to want to be eternally dizzy. But this was a wonderful kind of dizzy, a wonderful kind of blending, reeling in all different directions. Dare say, she stood uncaring where her feet stood and where her arms lay as long as the feeling stayed.

On the other side of the scope, Ron's lips were swollen—it seemed. They unquestionably appeared a different plush and redness than usual. Not that Hermione had been documenting the stages and states of Ron's lips. At least, not to her conscious thought. His lips obtained a violent red, as if they recently partook in a bloody battle or pyromaniac war of some sorts. Observations by the anew, reckless Hermione Granger were not found far from the truth. These battle wounds, however, Ronald Weasley would nurse in grateful and gratified ways. He adored these wounds.

Hermione's teeth hurt. Amongst all the arguing and bickering in the uncommon and unlikely approach, their mouths had resulted in releasing a certain animal-like hunger. Passionate and deliberate, undoubtedly, but amidst these magnificent shows and tells, the blind hunger caused their teeth to collide into each other rather harshly. But the fashion in which her teeth hurt and what caused the hurt in the first place only resulted in becoming a bearable kind of hurt. A kind of hurt she hoped to feel again and again. A kind of hurt she aimed to feel again and eventually--eternally. How silly that must sound to want ones teeth to hurt for all eternity. But then again, this was a heaven-like hurt.

Goodness and kindness only knows why she enjoyed her dizziness and her bruised gums, but her lips state of being could not compare to that of the previously mentioned. No, no comparison, indeed, because its state of being certainly surpassed that of the teeth and dizziness. Yes, indeed, the explanation of the feeling in her lips must continue unexplained due to the lack of words provided in the oxford dictionary—in any language for that matter, dead or alive.

The only language that could translate explanation was those words of the body language. A language in which Hermione Granger was not all too familiar with as she was with the English language yet translate she did when she bit her lip until it bled. Is that not enough explanation until Hermione discovers a new language to describe the feeling uncontainable in her lips?

Ron wanted very much to discuss what had just occurred and childishly ask as to why it had just occurred.

_Imperious curse?_

_Bloody bloke, she probably fancies you! _

_Do you think so?_

_How can you not think so? What more do you need to know?_

Ron mentally shrugged at his heart's countering statement to his mind's thick-headedness.

_Maybe she does fancy me but this isn't really the time or place to clarify it now, is it?_

_Well, neither is snogging…_

Ron felt an inescapable throbbing, as if something awfully blunt and hard was repetitively drumming against the back of his head. Though the invisible object continued causing injury to his poor head, the throbbing was rather a kind of bearable kind of throbbing. A kind of throbbing Ron hoped to feel again and again, ultimately Ron aimed to one day feel eternally. How silly he must sound to want to eternally obtain a throbbing pain to the back of this head. But this was a brilliant kind of throbbing.

As for the lips of Ronald Weasley, they stung sweetly, stung harshly as well but Ron aimed to prolong the stinging sensation for as long as probable. He adored the feeling of sweet stinging. It almost tasted like his mums raspberry cobbler with its irresistible sharp sweetness that made anyone's mouth water at the thought…except this was seven hundred million three hundred eighty four thousand five hundred twenty two times better.

"Never mind that."

_Not likely mate!_

_Poor choice of words, Harry._

"What about the Horcrux? Do you think you could just—just hold it in until we've got the diadem?"

_Hold it in? HOLD IT IN? HARRY POTTER, I HELD IT IN FOR GOD ONLY KNOWS HOW MANY YEARS AND YOU WANT ME TO JUST… HOLD. IT. IN?! Well, I guess if I waited this long a few more minutes wouldn't hurt._

_Hold it in? Hold what in? _

_Oh. That._

"Yeah—right—sorry." Ron replied, absentmindedly apprehending Harry's request.

Ron and Hermione simultaneously began to retrieve the neglected fangs. While Harry focused on the task at hand, Ron attempted to listen while stealing fleeing glances at Hermione. Her red glow had begun to drift into a steady blush, a red turned pink.

_Her sense must be coming back. She'll realize in a second who she just kissed…oh bugg—_

His hand reached for the same fang Hermione intended on reclaiming. Their hands grazed. Subsequently, their hands quickly retreated as if a repeat of their third year at Hogwarts where their first encounter of each other's electrifying touch had frightened them into a similar tizzy.

_Great. Back where we started._

Harmoniously concluding, Ron and Hermione decided it best to discard that fang; they hadn't necessarily needed it anyway. When they stood abruptly, both noticeably lacking most of their bearings—like balance—they stumbled into one another. Rather evidently, they're limbs had not quite recovered from the elation of the moments spent on cloud nine.

"Sorry." The two recited instantaneously.

Shuffling under the awkward glare of the situation, the cumbersome couple endeavored to balance the consummating objects occupying their arms upon forsaking legs. Their struggle turned to a stumble into the other's scuffle resulting in only more struggling and stumbling. Futile tries to assist their friend allowed their glances to meet briefly.

"Sorry." They repeated together again. This time, however, Ron managed to smile despite the ridiculously awkward state of his arms, legs, and situation.

Hermione fleetingly elevated her gaze to encounter his before returning a shy smile.

_Bunch of grinning baffoons we most look like in the middle of a war with blushes on our faces and fantasies on our minds._

_Maybe…maybe she didn't just happened to trip and my lips just happened to catch her fall… Bloody hell, she wanted to kiss me! Like I wanted to… But, blimey, she beat you to it, you git! She'll probably never let you live this one down mate. But bloody hell, she's insatiable, isn't she?_

_You kissed me like you meant it._

_And I knew._

_You meant it._

Hermione bit her lip again as she finally noticed the burning sensation radiating off her face and neck.

_What a portrait of the Weasley hair I must look like right now! But goodness it was well worth it wasn't it? It's hot in here, isn't it? Yes, I do believe it's rather hot in here._

After their display of stumbling and stuttering, Ron and Hermione followed Harry out and down the hall where they reunited with Ginny.

"Tonks," Ginny began, "Tonks, I'm sure he's okay—"

Tonks trampled away and without regard.

"They'll be all right…" Harry uttered softly to her, assuring himself as well.

While Harry was preoccupied with his own love troubles, Ron chose the daunting task of speaking first—directly at Hermione—since their…argument.

"D—d, do you think…we really need all of these fangs?"

_What did he say?_

_What did I say?_

"Maybe just a few, like two or three would do, right? Seeing that…we have only…what two horcruxes left. I, I mean, not that I don't mind carrying them, they just…are in the way, is all…"

Ron carefully examined the fangs without glancing at Hermione.

"I-I-I guess your right," Hermione managed to mumble as a reply.

_Must not have been that great of a kiss if he's too embarrassed to talk about it… Hermione Granger what have you done?_

On the trio strived. With Harry's mind on a recreating a new required room and a red head of his own, Hermione began to swallow the aftertaste of her decision to snog Ron in the midst of a war.

_But didn't he kiss you back? Could've been…a reflex or something…_

As the threesome rounded to view a required room anew, Ronald Weasley sensed something amiss amidst Hermione's thoughts.

Finally.

Possibly, Ron's thickheaded ways were not all a lost cause.

"You know what, Hermione?" Ron whispered, every bit intentionally grazing his lip against part of her upper ear's cartilage. Hermione detonated out of her skin and her temperature and color peaked. The red returned. She managed a wide-eyed stare at Ron, her eyes alight and hinting the dire desire for his confession. Her eyes shown vividly of her need for his confession.

"I'm glad you grew out of those huge teeth that you had in the first year…"

Hermione watched him, dumbfounded to its foundation.

"It would be like snogging a beaver." He finished with his copyright grin.

Not the kind of confession she had hoped for, more of a confirmation than even implication of a confession and yet a confession nonetheless. A confession only Ronald Weasley could make and make sense.

Before punching him firmly in his side, Hermione could not possibly resist the relieved smile, the nip at her lips once more, or the shake of her head in incredulity.

_Typical Ron._

_So, not what I was hoping for. So he didn't say, 'I love you, Hermione,' or even, 'bloody hell Hermione, that kiss what great! Blimey you must fancy me and blimey I must fancy you too…' But then again he did somewhat imply that he had somewhat enjoyed the kiss in his way of implying and suggested that their would be more kissing in his way of suggesting. It doesn't sound like much but from Ron its means so much._

Mere implications, yes, but any allegation from Ronald Weasley would certainly suffice for Hermione.

"Accio diadem!" Hermione attempted to no avail as she at last focused her well-educated mind on the task at hand.

"Lets split up," Harry suggested, already choosing an aisle and sprinting down it. Before Ron and Hermione followed his suit in pursuit of the Horcrux, they stood a second in each other's stares.

"Don't do anything stupid, Ron," Hermione demanded firmly, her glance shifting away now, "Like dying."

She rocked on her heels as Ron watched her and adored her stern expression he knew so well. He often observed this expression when she ordered him to finish his homework. This however, was not homework that she commanded him to fulfill. In her own Hermione way, she was begging him to live.

Ron responded with his typical grin. Instantly, the grave grimace gracing her face melted into pudding before him thus revealing the so plain and apparent fear painting her features. Fear for him.

Bowing his head in humble submission, Ron swallowed.

_She really is scared for me, isn't she? She must really…love me._

"I-I'll—I'll try." Ron replied with a small smile.

Hermione could read so plainly the fear in his smile.

She swayed again, rocking back and forth on her heels then suddenly she swayed into Ron and planted a kiss on his lips.

The split second before he realized he was being kissed again, Ron observed Hermione's firmly closed eyes and the gorgeous eyelashes graced at her eyelids edges. He had never seen them so close and for that slight second he noticed that their tips were a lighter brown and an almost blonde tinge. Then his eyes fluttered shut also.

They encompassed, they tasted, so full--so at home molding, smoldering against each other's lips. So complete.

Just as he felt the burning sensation of her hand upon his cheek and his hand upon hers, she pulled away. Way too soon.

_Don't release me until it's over_

He wanted to hold her forever there, anywhere, love her, kiss her, tell her.

_Tell her…tell her!_

But she left before she couldn't leave. She wanted to hold him forever there, anywhere, and love him, just love him, only love him.

She sprinted down the adjacent aisle as tears ambled in a single file down her cheeks.

Ron watched her a moment more before turning into an aisle of his own to search.

They left each other's lips and arms but their fears followed close behind.

_But all our fears fall on deaf ears tonight._

So they held the common goal, purpose, finally confirmed to one another. They most certainly had something to live for and they wanted so much to do so.

But will they survive—will they live?

_They're burning the roads they built to lead us to the light._

_And blinding our hearts with their shining lies,_

_While closing our caskets cold and tight ... _

_But I'm dying to live._


	22. The Brown, The Red, and The Blue

AN: My apologies for the delay. I must say though I do enjoy your reviews, very much so, and I do thank you so for your faithful reviews. Please continue to grace me with your reviews and suggestions, comments and critiques. They mean very much to me.

The Brown, The Red, and The Blue (And Colors Not Found On Crayons)

(Chapter 22)

_I don't feel well. Merlin, I really don't feel well. And where the bloody hell am I? Hospital wing by the looks of it. Blimey, that's right. The poison, Harry, Slughorn, birthday, Lavender…Hermione… Hermione! Oh, Hermione. Blimey, Hermione… That seems to make me feel more ill than the poison did. Brilliant. Maybe it would have been best not to wake up. And what the…is this…I look down toward the end of my bed and where my arms lay and I see brown hair. Lots of it. It's Hermione. Her head is resting on my bed, near to where my left hand is and she is sleeping. Hermione is here. To see me. Bloody hell, it's Hermione! Her head on my bed, asleep, in the hospital, alone, visiting me, at night, passed curfew!_

"_Hermione…" I mumble as if she could hear me. Then again it's so much easier to talk to her when she's not staring at you with those big brown eyes or…talking back…_

_Merlin, I love watching her sleep. The only time she seems to let her guard down. She is so peaceful…so vulnerable. I want to see this priceless and beautiful vulnerability on her face so I move some of her unruly hair out of her face._

_Beautiful. Just like I remember it. Bloody beautiful. It's stained though. Tears. Great, Ron, you always manage to make her cry, don't you? There's a book beneath her cheek. Of course there's a book. But there's something else. A gift. I carefully pick it up and I notice it's addressed to me. A gift for me. I carefully and quietly open it, keeping my eyes fixed on her. Can you blame me? I hadn't had a good look at her since… Well, I miss the times where she would read and I would watch. When I was suppose to be reading, I'd always rather watch her read. I missed looking at her, watching her, memorizing her. _

_I try to focus on the gift now, suspecting it to be a book or something. But it's not. Not a broom either to my disappointment but to my surprise it was something better than a book and broom together. It's a picture in a picture frame, a picture of Harry, Hermione and me and it is an old one because we all look pretty young. Then there's another frame but it's empty and I understand why. She probably was going to take a more recent picture of us and put in there. She knew I didn't have very many pictures in my room, or any at all of us. I asked mum for some for Christmas but then Hermione wasn't there… But this has got to be the best blood birthday present ever. I don't even know why, it's just a picture. But it was from Hermione and she got me something she knew I wanted and not what she knew I needed like she did every year._

"_Thanks, Hermione."_

_For everything._

"_I have a confession to make. I read all the books you gave me. Never liked any them really, all them were boring actually but I read them because you gave them to me. I never told you because I was too embarrassed that I read a book just because you gave it to me. Thought you'd laugh at me, yell at me, slap me or something."_

_I sigh and regret it. I still don't feel well. But I still have to confess some things. I feel confident and brave when I know that she's totally unconscious. It feels so good to talk to her even if she was sleeping. Merlin, how much I missed her._

"_I'm sorry about Lavender. She was—is a mistake, I guess. I'm sorry. I am sorry, Hermione. You wont believe this but… the only reason I started dating her was to make you jealous. I'm sorry, Hermione. Hell, I'm sorry for everything... I'm sorry for swearing too. There are lots and lots of excuses as to why I'm acting all nutters and dating Lavender Brown…" _

_It takes all my Gryffindor courage to say what I have to say next._

"_You scare me, Hermione. You scare me to death and not the You Know Who kind of scary but the kind of scared where I can't imagine a life without you and that scares me to death. A life without you scares me to death. I can't imagine a life without all our arguing, your brown eyes, and brown hair. I love the brown. I think her last name is the only attractive thing about Lavender. The only thing and it's the one thing that always reminds me of you. I guess what I'm trying to say but not doing a very good job of it, like everything else… is that… I think I'm in love you."_

_Fancy that. When I finally admit it, finally say it aloud, finally say what I'm feeling in my emotional range of a teaspoon, she's not even listening, much less awake. I think I said it aloud for my sake though. I touch her hair again, wishing I could stay like this. Almost holding her, and her almost knowing how I feel. It's better than the silent treatment we've been giving each other._

"_I miss you, Hermione and…I am scared because, Merlin…I am so in love with you."_

_I pretend for a moment before drifting into sleep again that everything was okay and that she heard me. Maybe one day she'll hear me._

_One day she'll hear me._

_But then again, would she listen even then?_

"_I love you, I do, Hermione."_

_Are you listening?_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The stinging. The sweet stinging. It lasted a meager moment, even a meager moment less than the last kiss but this, the stinging, remained long after the lips had left. They sting and they sting so sweetly. But enough with the lips, their taste, their stinging, their sensation, that surged in every vein, right this instance was about defeating You Know Who and surviving such a feat. Yes, survive and don't do anything stupid. Simple instructions but crucial to abide. He regretted not relaying such orders, appeals for Hermione as well.

Apprehending the shelves' contents and whether or not those shelves contained the thing in which the trio sought, Ron apprehended also the vivid colors that colored his world. The colors like the numerous brown books and their brown covers, all a shade similar to that of Hermione's hair.

His eyes apprehended such things like the wooden statues of a famous someone or another that glowed with a shade he understood as a certain undeniable brown, a smoldering and radiating brown similar to that of Hermione's eyes.

This is the nutrition he absorbed as his legs rapidly trampled the floor.

_Don't die, Hermione. Please. I love you, I do._

_Are you listening?_

_Don't die…don't die…don't trip over those bloody boxes and die…_

Then amongst Ron's impartial sight, apprehending, and the rest of his altered senses since the kiss—pardon me—plural, kisses, he happened to apprehend foreign voices. These voices came from only a few aisles away, Ron determined acutely.

_Harry? And…who…?_

_Don't die, Hermione. Please. I love you, I do._

_Are you listening?_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The diadem will probably have diamonds or gems or something like that. What kind of jewels? Blue ones. Blue is the best color for a gem. Or Red.

Blue. Sapphire like the gem. Like his eyes. His eyes that shine brighter and bluer than any sky where no sun would dare occupy.

_Diadem. Right._

The shelves, stuffed like the dinner table during Christmas time at the Weasley's, held countless objects shiny, gold, and red. Red, above all, Hermione saw the red, a red similar to that of Ron's hair…and lips.

_Don't you dare die Ronald Weasley. I swear I'll kill you if you leave me again. I can't live without your red and blue._

Some establish their lives with the colors black and white, determining which colors by the life in which they have lived or in fact living. Some establish their life with the colors that reside in their intended positions. Others, they find their lives best lived in a life colored red, blue, or brown.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_I can't believe this. I cannot believe this. I am actually sneaking out past curfew, breaking the rules, as a prefect, no less, just to go see Ron. The prat who is dating Lavender Brown. The same prat who made the last few months a nightmare. I can't believe this. I can't believe…he's hurt... All this time I thought he was invincible to things like…feeling… _

_Oh, I hope he wakes up. _

_I sit next to him and I already feel the tears. I hastily try to wipe them away but they continue to fall despite my wishes for them to halt._

_I didn't cry the first time I saw him here, helpless and frail. It took all the strength I didn't know I still had after all these months. _

_All these months…_

_I couldn't feel much either. I felt numb and for the life of me couldn't remember the last thing I had said to him. It probably wasn't nice._

_I do remember running, running faster than I ever thought I could. I remember what I was thinking too. It was only one word, only three letters that resounded with each hurried step I took._

_I remember being mad, so mad. Entirely at myself but I think I took it out on Harry. _

_I remember waiting outside the doors. I remember shaking uncontrollably and promising to make things better if he would be all right._

_I remember wanting to cry. But I couldn't. I couldn't let Ginny and Harry see._

_I remember going into the hospital wing and seeing him. I remember wanting to cry then too. But I couldn't let them see._

_I remember hearing Ginny, George, Fred, and Harry talking but I am not listening. I'm watching Ron, trying so hard to block every image of his crooked grin and his blue stare. But that is all I see._

_Then…he said something. I thought I was hearing things, I thought I had completely gone mad. I don't believe anyone else heard it but all that mattered is that I did. And it takes me a minute to admit it and let it sink in but I know what he said. He said my name. Not Harry's or Lavenders but mine. My walls began to fall. But I would not to cry. I couldn't let them see. I couldn't let him see._

_I begged myself not to collapse in front everyone._

_Oh, Ron. I remember thinking and I remember clutching my hands so hard I left nail marks on my hands. Thankfully, everyone was too busy paying attention to the other Weasleys entering the wing. I needed to get out of there. So when Madame Pomfrey said that only six were allowed to visit at a time, I take the chance and leave. I desperately need a place to hide. Somewhere to scream. Somewhere to cry._

_I turned the corner, sprinted into a empty classroom and collapsed in the corner. I cried a very long time there, I cried when I didn't think I had any more water left in me._

_So I had to come back. I had to see him. Alone. I thought I was finished with all the crying but here they come again._

"_Hello, Ron." My voice is about is as firm as my patched up walls. "So this is rather awkward, isn't it? The first time I'm talking to you and you're not even awake. Just so you know, I'm still mad at you for…Lavender and snogging her after I asked you to Slughorns party. And you know, that wasn't very easy to do. You can be very thick sometimes Ron. That was the stupidest thing you have ever done. It was very stupid of you, Ronald. Very stupid."_

_Look at me! Reprimanding him and he's in the hospital! This doesn't help the whole trying not to cry thing._

_I am gripping rather harshly the book I brought and his gift. His gift, something that's been weighing down my trunk for a while. I've had the picture of us for a long time and I knew he didn't have one. _

_This year was going to be different, suppose to be different._

_This year I was going to tell him or at least imply more firmly how I felt. I started that plan with the Slughorn party and then for his birthday I would put a picture in another frame of just the two of us. Harry would understand. Ron would always expect all of us to be in the picture but not just him and me. No, he wouldn't be expecting that from me. I could have said so much with that picture, more than just a thousand words but something a thousand times better. I could have told him I saw all of us together in the future but most of all I saw the colors, most of all, I saw him._

"_I saw you, Ron."_

_What was I saying?_

"_I still see you, Ron. Merlin's pants! I can't do this! I can't go on any longer like this, Ron. These last few months have been awful, absolutely awful! I can't stand not talking to you or not arguing with you. I don't like this at all. Not at all. Rather a sad predicament, isn't it? I can't live with you and I can't live without you."_

_I touch his hand and it is cold but it gives me warmth. His face looks the way his hand feels. It's void of that color and vibrancy I adore. I don't like it. I hate it. I hate how I haven't looked at him like this for months. I miss the glancing, the staring, and the bickering. I miss looking into his eyes that I seem to always make angry and I seem to ignite a certain blue fire in them every time I say something that he doesn't fancy. Sometimes I would make him upset just so I could see that fire. That fire is my undoing and my addiction that I cannot get enough of. But I adore even more are his happy eyes. That addiction reaches to my core. I miss them. I wish I could see them. I miss him._

"_I miss you. I really, really miss you, Ron. I think I'd rather live with you and Lavender Brown than without you. And I guess… I forgive you."_

_I miss his color. I miss the color that use to invade my dull skies._

"_I'm sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry but I think I'm in love with you. I'm sorry I didn't let you see it. I am so sorry I didn't let you see it. It's all my fault really. It's not your fault I'm not as attractive as Lavender. I'm sorry, Ron. I am. And I am in love with you. So very much."_

_I love the colors and I miss, most of all, the red and blue._

_I love the red and blue._

"_Merlin…I am so in love with you."_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chaotic images transpire in a speed too quick for Hermione to apprehend. Although her mind hardly apprehended the hurried scene before, she felt herself stir into the motion. She felt dizzy but not the kind of dizzy she fancied to feel. The fire, it burned her eyes and the heat burned her skin but she did not feel it. This fire had no effect. The red and blue fire she recognized and served, held her firmly about the waist. This fire is the kind she fancied to feel.

"Get on." The red and blue told her.

She obeyed, immediately and sat behind him. She wrapped her arms about the red and blue and buried her head into the red and blue, finding safety in this fire. Off the floor they lifted, on the broom, and into the ferocious fire they dared.

"IF WE DIE FOR THEM HARRY, I'LL KILL YOU!" Ron bellowed above the hungry flames. And above the devious cackle of the enclosing fire, he whispered to Hermione as if he could hear her fear above the fire's malicious laugh.

"Hold on, Hermione. I wont let you go."

_I will not bend and I will not break._

_I will stay._

_Are you listening?_

She whimpers briefly, trying her hardest to find her bravery amidst the flames. She finds it but it is singed and fragile. But what Ron revealed soon renews it.

And this time, he makes sure she is listening.

"I won't let you die, Hermione. And just so you know, I love you. I do. I love you, I do. You know, just so you know."

She was listening. She heard but where has she heard it before? The chamber of secrets where she thought it was her subconscious protecting her but it was in fact Ron protecting her then and Ron protecting her now.

She clung tighter to the red and blue and to the words they confessed. Into the fire, they continued. Hermione shut her eyes to the fire attempting to penetrate her courage. Though the fire, hot and strong, she focused on the color upon the back of her eyelids only to discover that Ron's confession had changed the colors. It was not a red or blue but a color anew, unbeknownst to her. She saw it, felt it, and bade it to stay on until all had passed. Stay on, it obeyed, and also altered all her life's colors into colors not found on crayons.


	23. Mourning and the Coming Morning

Mourning and the Coming Morning

(Chapter 23)

Harry's green windows were washed as he watched the Dumbledore portrait. When he could hardly stand its sight, his eyes befell a glare at the magnificent stone patterns upon the floor. Turning abruptly, Harry faced his friends with a futile attempt to crack his like stone expression. His face felt as cold as such. The crack, the smile, did not fly and only allowed a tired sigh a winged flight. With a pausing glance at Ron and Hermione's anxious expressions, Harry then exited, his robes waving adieu, leaving his friend's anxieties and their cures for such for them to render. Ron and Hermione stared moments a smidge more before turning their anxieties to one another.

"Where do you think he's off to?" Ron asked.

"Give him a minute, maybe he just needs time alone." Hermione suggested, suggesting for the sake of breaking the foreboding and eroding silence haunting the space above them, about them, and between them.

Following a fleeting glance to the spot Harry once stood, Hermione averted her gaze to where Ron stood at present and here, she found his gaze waiting. His windows themselves showed a washed color with the glossy consequence of grief and relief. She squeezed his hand he still firmly held, still reluctant to remove it from her imprisonment. She requited his firm hold for fear he would let go and some how she would plummet off the face of the earth. Conversely, due to the science of temperature and dermatology relating to skin, the epidermis tends to release salt water from its pores resulting in what some call sweat. Thus, deeming a warranted separation of the their hand's union necessary. The hands slipped out of their foresworn molds and because of the certain wetness occupying their digits, their release sounded similar to that of a sponge being relieved of its moisture or a sound like "squeesh." Unanimously, the couple wiped their respected branches submersed with dew on their robes. When Ron noticed that Hermione's actions mirroring his own, how could he possibly resist a grin?

"Blimey, Hermione, you held on so long and so tight, I thought my hand was drowning." Ron teased playfully. Coloring bashfully before remembering that it was actually Ron who commenced the hand union in the first place, she shook her head and nudged him with a her shoulder.

"But then again," Ron continued thought provoked, staring contemplatively at his hands, "this doesn't feel right." Examining his hands at different angles, Ron then averted his attention to Hermione's windows and their wonderful way of willing him undone.

"What doesn't feel right?" Hermione asked. Ron's hand suddenly captured Hermione's anon.

"Right, much better."

How could Hermione possibly resist a smile? Only he could make her smile amidst times such as these.

"So…" Hermione began, the "o" abound in the nearly vacant room, "what do we do now?" She said aloud the things all had asked in their silence.

"I don't know. I was hoping you would know." Ron grew solemn suddenly.

"Oh, Ron, I'm sorry. This isn't the way things were suppose to happen, is it?"

He tugged her into an embrace.

"Guess not. But I still wish you knew a spell for this."

"I wish I did, Ron. I'm sorry, I wish I did."

"It's all right, Hermione." He pulled away reaching for her hand again to reassure his statement with a rather child-like and bashful peck to her knuckles. Though he was a clumsy romantic and often awkward, Hermione could not help but find his behavior worthy of doting.

"Maybe we should find, Harry," Ron suggested this time, toeing her by the hand he had successfully recaptured.

They found him at the bottom of the stairs, supporting his failing stature against the railing. His neck bowed with the weight of the world's grief upon his shoulders. Ron and Hermione carefully approached this somber and grieving shadow.

"I'm sorry, guys. I'm not going anywhere. I wanted to send a patronus to everyone." Everyone meaning Ginny, Hermione understood. Ron sympathized also and placed an arm around his best mate.

"Right mate, you need some rest."

Harry nodded, his neck seemingly bobbing on its last thread.

"Ron, I'm sorry, I'm sorry about Fred…"

Harry cried, his armor and strength crumbling beneath Ron's embrace. Ron thus gathered his friends weak and frail bones, balancing his mate's weight and grief he bore and the grief he bore for others all the way back to the common room. Though the room eerily vacant, Hermione asserted certain people's absence could be accounted for in the Great Hall where all must have reassembled, the separate common rooms useless to a united wizardy world. Once rival teams and houses but tonight they were friends, tonight they were all heroes and mourners of the lost, tonight they were one house.

Ron helped Harry onto the couch with the best delicacy he could muster. The Boy Who Lived Again collapsed in a heap of exhaustion, relief, and anguish. Hermione removed his glasses while Ron found a blanket to envelop Harry. Once tucked in, Harry half consciously gazed up at the closest family he had ever known.

"Thanks." It wasn't much but it sufficed for Ron and Hermione. Hermione knelt beside Harry and kissed tenderly the left side of his forehead, just to the left of his scar.

"Goodnight Harry." Hermione whispered.

They stood, watching over Harry.

"Are you all right?" Ron inquired in a soft secret tone.

"Uh huh." She wrapped herself securely with her arms. "I don't know about you though, I'm pooped."

She ventured to quit him and the room, causing Ron to panic.

"Oi, w-where do you think you're going?"

Hermione halted her departure and deliberately slowed her turn to face him. Ron chanced a shy grin.

"I don't think…I'm just… Well, I haven't…" Ron stumbled and tripped and had a difficult time standing on the right words.

"I'm just going to get some blankets, Ron. I'll be back." Hermione flashed a small grin in return before returning to the task she previously mentioned. Unsteady steps accompanied her and unbeknownst to her Ron's presence shadowed closely behind. Ron felt an odd sensation that he shouldn't be alone with his thoughts and the consequences of the evening. He didn't believe himself strong enough for the outcome and he somehow found comfort in knowing Hermione's companionship. If he left her a moment, a meager moment, he feared he wouldn't even sustain the strength to stand. He followed her into the girl's dormitory, relieved that no spell forbade him. When Hermione noticed a breathing not her own, she whirled and collided with Ron. She gasped, a habitual fear clutching her lungs.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I'm sorry. I just…" Ron attempted explanation but the strength noted moments ago and somehow run dry in the last few moments of the heavy silence. "I don't want you to be alone."

Hermione knew better. What he probably meant was he didn't want to be alone. Things regularly found themselves astir in Ron's mouth.

She gazed up and into him and his clear ocean orbs. Excluding any second thoughts, Hermione, unhurried by the impending morning and the circumstances they held, she held Ron, strangling him in a comforting clinch. Ron made no objection and reciprocated, allowing some tears to descend off his cheeks and onto Hermione's hair. Hermione too, cried, saturating the front of Ron's robes while clutching mercilessly to his muscled back. She clung so tight when she was not distracted by her sobs in anthem with her captive, she could feel the rivets in his back, carved by muscle. Moments passed before they relinquished their death grips.

"Th-th-thanks. I n-needed that." Ron spluttered, blushing at the ears. Wiping the remaining moisture from her face, Hermione grinned lightly her response, clinging closely still. Embarrassed slightly from his vulnerability, Ron subconsciously memorized with his trembling fingertips the curve of Hermione's spine from which Hermione sensed the inevitable shiver quiver along it.

"By the way, what in merlin's pants does, 'I'm pooped', mean?" Ron inquired unexpectedly, a crooked crack along his lips.

Hermione laughed shortly before replying.

"Muggle term, it means I'm tired."

"Well, I'm pooped too. And I think I'm more pooped than you. Any more pooped and I would be dead."

Hermione smiled despite the mention of the 'd' word, a word they had become too well acquainted with the last few hours.

By the time Ron finished jogging his fingers through his hair, Hermione and Ron reappeared with blankets. Ron acquired the sum he desired and waited to observe where Hermione's resting place may reside for he himself didn't want to reside to far from her. Bashfully glancing briefly at Ron, Hermione chose the love seat opposite Harry. Ron followed suit, opting for the next best thing closest to Hermione. Once securely encompassed, Hermione glanced toward Ron to assure herself that he was there and some illusion of her subconscious.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

No, not an illusion.

Though other's fate were not so fortunate as hers, Hermione was grateful that her fate included Ron's unscathed and with a certain possibility that they maybe henceforth entwined.

_He's still here. That's all that counts._

"Nothing. Just making sure."

Hermione turned away from the lump of blankets and pillows opposite her supposedly Ron's swathed sleeping arrangement.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" Hermione predetermined his usual retort but was soon corrected.

"I'm not going anywhere."

_I will stay._


	24. Awakening the Living

Awakening The Living

(Chapter 24)

She awoke with a start. Dawn had yet to break its way against the darkness of evening according to a quick glance at the closest window. Hermione shivered despite the layers surrounding her; she shivered after reminiscing the previous day's circumstances and the images that still bore holes into her mind. But it was in fact tomorrow, granted, two or three in the early morning of tomorrow, but it remained tomorrow. Evil had not had its way yesterday. They survived.

_We survived. Ginny, Harry…_

_Ron._

She frantically looked over to the spot in which Ron stole rest residence a few mere hours earlier only to discover his absence. Frightened, she could not resist the irrational thought's invasion.

"Ron?" She managed to squeak quietly.

Hysteria may have been unfounded and unwarranted yet it overtook her in a small extreme as she spun her head in every direction in search of any sign of where Ron might be or where he might have gone. Calmly resolving to take the search afoot, Hermione began remove herself from the comforts of covers and placed her feet, chilled by the night's frost, on a less merciful cold floor. Shocked was she when she found not ground but a body, groaning at the unexpected interruption to his sleep. Hermione gasped.

"Just five more minutes, mum…"

"Ron!" Hermione whispered harshly. She would have screamed his name if the current sleeping arrangements granted permission for there was Harry's peaceful slumber to consider. However, Ron did not stir under Hermione's reprimand though superfluous in his defense. She sighed then, collecting the scattered emotions about the room. She observed Ron again, but this time, no harsh whispers were lashed out only a quiet adoration.

Ron had fabricated a small bed, meager and feeble, at the foot of Hermione's choice of resting place. He utilized his former bed's cushion as a pillow as he slept on his stomach with his mouth in an attractive state of drooling. Hermione resisted the urge to giggle.

_Oh Ron…_

Hermione was incredulous to the whole situation until she noticed Ron clutching loosely but obviously clutching nonetheless the ends of Hermione's blanket. Not to steal, of course. It was a gesture only one Hermione Granger could identify unmistakably. Ron had intended to check on her and resulted sleeping by her, if only to keep a tight eye on her safety even if there was no justification to this now that the war was over. Had he, possibly, just wanted to be near her?

Hermione felt the wet sensation of tears fog her eyes as she watched Ron snore. Without a second's hesitation, she stood, careful not to wake him as she did so, stealing with her the blankets and pillow from the couch. Chary until safely beside Ron, Hermione formulated a new bed close to Ron so she too could keep a "tight eye" on him with the only justification as to why was her need to be near him as he had so clearly exhibited to her. She shifted as close as air would allow. This gesture of Hermione's may have been forward and not like her but as Hermione understood there was always room for change. If Ron had certainly altered over the years from a boy to man, she certainly could alter parts of her introverted personality. It was a gesture of reciprocation. A gesture that said in different manners to different observers but as Hermione reached for Ron's hand, similar to how he had at Grimmuald Place eons ago, the gesture could only mean thing.

"I love you too, Ron."

She squeezed his hand gently as sign of confirmation. This stirred Ron into wake.

"Err my nee?" Ron gargled, an eye popping open. She moved impossibly closer, their faces millimeters apart.

"It's me."

Ron hardly succumbed the scene before him, inches from him. He had to be dreaming again. He proceeded to pinch her.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, sorry, Hermione! I wasn't sure you were real!"

"I'm real, Ron. Plus, aren't you suppose to pinch yourself?"

"Yeah…right." Ron swallowed, feeling himself ignite into colors of the rainbow, the warmth radiating off Hermione causing him Ron perspire from the forehead. He still hardly believed it and for fleeing moments Ron dodged eye contact with Hermione, attempting to make sense of his impossibly good fortune.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice like a four hundred year old radio.

"Perfect."

_So don't ruin it._

Ron swallowed again.

_So lay with me_

_I could use the company_

_You could help me ease_

When finally his eyes finalized their spin in his head and the stare above Hermione's eyes, he permitted eye acquaintance, her admiring look so sappy it appeared as syrup. Ron loved syrup. He could never resist syrup. A breath later and their noses grazed, each of their lids wavering and waking sentiments.

"What are you doing, Ron?" Hermione murmured. Ron trembled involuntarily when she brought her hand to his cheek, feeling the contact in his stomach and chest.

"Well, I was trying to sleep…" Ron answered, gulping. He had to be dreaming but the sensation violating his every nerve could not be fantasy enthused or inspired. It undeniably felt real. Insatiable.

Hermione smiled briefly, entirely conscious of her affect on his poor complexion and the tension lying beneath the strawberry coat. "I meant, what are you doing sleeping on the floor?"

Ron could sense his feet evolve into giant red gnomes.

"I, er, you know, just use to sleep on the floor. It's actually more comfortable…"

"Ron…"

Another gulp. He lost sight of her eyes as they began wandering aimlessly and admiringly to her lips, throat, curve of her neck…

"Yeah?" He squeaked, barely heeding her words but regarding the way her lips moved when she verbalized his name.

"I thought we moved on from this part of our relationship."

This caught and held Ron's attention.

"What?"

"You know we've been friends long enough to tell each other the truth."

"Right, friends."

"So…"

"So…"

"Come on, Ron! Answer the question!"

"Shh, you'll wake Harry."

"You can't use Harry as an excuse."

"Me? Me using him as an excuse? Me? Well, that's bloody like you Hermione, blaming me for something you always do."

"What? What I always do?"

"You're the one always using Harry excuse!"

"The Harry excuse? What do you mean? When?"

"You know exactly what I mean!"

"No, Ron, I don't."

"Fine. Let me explain. Shell Cottage, Chamber of Secrets…need I say more?"

Hermione misplaced her argument.

"The reason I'm on the floor, Hermione, to answer your question, is that I wanted to be next to you! Hell, I've slept next you and or at least four and half yards away from you since we left the burrow last year! Honestly, I don't like sleeping away from you, I sleep better if you're next to me, I sleep better if I know you're next to me, that you're safe. And since the war is over now, I really don't need to protect you anymore, so I guess the reason I'm on the floor I guess is because I want to be. Is that so hard to believe? Think about Hermione! You're supposed to be the smart one. And what about you? Why are you on the floor?"

Her features absorbed his sermon and softened into smile, her eyes maple syrup. She kissed his nose that remained nonetheless closer.

"Shh, you'll wake Harry," She echoed blissfully.

His once annoyance sprouted into a ragged breathing mercilessly neglecting his requests of composure and clear sight. Endeavoring to remain a stubborn tranquility, Ron ignored the gesture from Hermione, revealing that outwardly it was ineffective but inwardly left him scathed and coveting for more.

_Taste_

_I love the taste_

_I need its warm rush_

"Y-you're avoiding the question, Hermione."

"Why am I sleeping on the floor? Really, Ron, can you be that thick? I'm here because you're here."

Basis for argumentation deteriorated as his stomach abandoned him to the lower levels of Hogwarts, Ron swallowed once again while attempting to detach himself from Hermione's binding spell that was never cast by a wand. He feared himself too weak to remain this close to Hermione and not act upon anything that he may inevitably regret afterward. It only grew additionally insufferable when Hermione kissed enticingly his right jawbone, snuggling closer still while stealing a part of his covering to cover her lower half.

_Rush_

_I need the rush_

_To pulse through my veins_

"I thought we moved on…from…c-c-calling each other names. We ha…have been friends long…enough…" Ron exhaled his words incapable and unequipped with strength to inhale anything but Hermione.

This allowed Hermione to raise her head once leaning against his chin to gaze at him. Ron predetermined the result of this statement and regretted instantaneously, punishing himself with a foot kicked into his mouth. Her face appeared disconcerted. Ron's mind wheeled into reverse.

"You said it yourself, Hermione, we've been friends long enough to not lie to each other anymore…"

"I thought we've moved on in our relationship from calling ourselves that…"

Hermione still disengaged eye contact.

"Relationship?" Ron half gasped half replied.

Hermione was insecure and unable to answer. Ron felt the rush, the elation, scream through him as he replayed the kisses she granted him, the hints she gave to him in seconds just previously. She hadn't done that sort of thing to Harry now had she?

"Well, Hermione, I…I know things are going to be tough the next few days…" Ron began, his inhaling more like aching as Hermione looked back at him, "the next few months really. But we'll…we'll be together and that's what counts. You, me, and Harry. We've stuck together this far…right? I mean but then we wont be the same, will we? Things will be different."

"How so?" Hermione replied hopefully, feigning ignorance. Ron reached for Hermione's hand, knotting her fingers firmly within his, deliberately allowing each finger to fall into its place between his.

_Oh, but the more I fight_

_Then the deeper I'm trapped_

_And I can't break free of this hold that you have_

"Well, we wont have to be afraid of death eaters, Voldemort, and…stuff. We'll still be friends. Some things will never change. But there is… something that will change between all of us…"

"Yes?" Hermione injected, impatiently.

"Come off it, Hermione, I wont be snogging Harry!"

It hadn't come out the way he had intended but Hermione laughed nevertheless. When she eventually calmed herself, Ron grinned sheepishly.

"I love your laugh." Ron began to caress Hermione's cheekbone, nearly feeling comfortable with words while feeling hazardously too comfortable with Hermione in such proximity. Hermione's flushed features filled by her guffaw filtered itself into a blush. She watched Ron shyly. Chancing his luck, Ron hesitated momentarily before bringing his head and mouth, tightly attached, closer to Hermione's neck until contact. He pressed gently his lips against her throat, just below her chin, pressing enough to feel the spastic beat of her heart. His hand had left Hermione's and ventured to her hip, subtracting the distance from nothing to something negative. Hermione acknowledged perfectly the fact that if the tension did not break soon, then she would surely.

"I was going to ask you to the Yule Ball. Really, I was."

Miraculously, Hermione, for once, listened and lost wonderfully words she had so well stalked herself over the years.

His lips anxiously vacationed lower down her neck to Bellatrix's scar where Ron cast a healing spell of his own craft, casting it along and across more than necessary.

_And I'll love you tonight_

_Oh I love you tonight_

_And tomorrow you may just_

_Feel the same_

Hermione hadn't the slightest in what to do with herself, her emotions were in every direction, her nerves, Merlin only knows where they went off to, and her hands began to perspire like a leaky cauldron. Her eyes quivering shut as his affect sunk its teeth but she was removed from the trance when again Ron's lips repositioned to her brow.

"I love the arches your eye brows make when I make you mad."

To her fingers, kissing each tip, his lips went.

"I love how you bite the nail of your index finger when you try to think of an argument to an argument you've already lost."

Suddenly, Ron chuckled while still holding Hermione's breath and hands in captive.

"What?" Hermione wondered, scanning every freckle of his face that seemly reflects a smile of its own.

"I was just thinking when telling Harry…guess who gets the handshake now…"

Hermione laughed in unison with Ron, a soundtrack well overdue.

"I remember that day," Hermione reminisced, her mind traveling back, "I just got back from being statue for days… I remember being thrilled to see Harry but so much more excited to see you which struck me as odd at first then scared me. And then the thought of hugging you sent my wand in a tizzy."

Ron chuckled again.

"Instead I got the handshake. Don't get me wrong though, I only dreamt about getting a handshake from the girl of my dreams. We men fantasize about handshakes," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "a hug would have been way too discreet. Who knows what rumors would have flown around if you, Merlin forbid, gave me a high five."

Before responding, she too kisses Ron's hand still immersed within her own, shaking her head at his witty sarcasm.

"You said when telling Harry… what are we telling Harry?"

"That he gets the handshake and I get the high five."

"No, Ron, I meant what you said before…"

"That you're my girlfriend now?"

_And I will know I'm alive_

Hermione remembers the complements Ron gifted that nearly sent all her insides ablaze but nothing compared to the inferno she blissfully swims in at present with such ecstasy her toes may explode.

_And I will know I'm alive_

"I mean only if you want or if you think that's—" Hermione hushed him with a finger to his lips.

"Ron's girlfriend. Ronald Weasley's girlfriend…" Hermione whispered, almost inaudibly, "I like the sound of that."

"Hermione Granger's boyfriend…I love the sound of that."

It was time. It was time to make it official, to sign, finally, the binding contract of souls with a signature or a gesture of some kind. Since they resided a fingernail apart already, it warranted an easy entrance to the finalizing signature of lips and teeth in which they entered gratefully and unanimously. Ron felt lead to commence the first signature, for Hermione had previously done so herself the last two occurrences. He signed once, twice and held longer, thrice a time came, but the fourth stayed. His lips were so gentle they seemed hesitant, as were hers, as if their lips were unbelievers, doubters of the indisputable proof otherwise presented to them upon the world's grandest and largest stages. It was reality and not of some extraordinary dream of sorts with unimaginable feel. Indeed, his lips were real, as were hers. They continued to convince unswervingly to each other the realism until there remained little room for doubt and considering their present proximity, there was not much room for much else.

_With each new embrace,_

_I have tied myself up_

_More tightly,_

_Into you_

Delicate like handling heaven.

And convincing.

They lied on their side facing the other, consuming the other. Ron's hand versed repetitively across Hermione's side from the bottom of her hip to the top of her ribs. With one hand, Hermione clenched the tip of Ron's burning ear, her fingers tied in his hair while her remaining digits tickled teasingly the skin revealed at the bottom of his throat near his collar. Their feet tangled, their hearts wrangled and stolen. They shared the blanket and a final signature; they parted slowly, reluctantly and not parting too far.

"Blimey Hermione. Your a bloody good kisser." Ron was red, his lips, however, were the reddest of all.

"Better than Lavender?" Hardly could she resist the question that haunted her since first observing Ron's consummation of Lavender's face.

"Way better…" He replied breathlessly without a second glance.

Hermione resisted the urge to whoop and scream triumph at the highest volume her lungs would permit.

"Am I…" He grew nervous, "better than Krum?"

"Krum? Viktor Krum? Oh my goodness, Ron. The last time I saw him was our fourth year since the wedding I mean. We wrote occasionally, rarely actually. I only danced with him at the Yule Ball that you were suppose to take me to. I kind of…over exaggerated some things about our relationship but that was to make you mad. I admit, I liked the attention but I never kissed him. He kissed my hand so many times though I thought he liked my hand more than me. I thought about sending a picture of it when we started to write letters."

When he recognized her statement as serious, Ron laughed uncontrollably for ten minutes. After catching his composure, he patted his chest as sign for his lungs to breathe again, his eyes watering.

"Who said I ever kissed Krum?" Hermione inquired suspiciously, ignoring his display of mockery.

Ron considered carefully the words before choosing their order.

"Ginny…"

"Ginny! Why I…I don't believe…what did she say?"

"That you snogged him."

"What? Rather ridiculous, isn't it to believe…"

"Well, Hermione…"

"What, Ron?"

"I think she said that only to make me mad."

"Why would she want to make you mad? That's my area of expertise."

"Well, Harry and I caught her snogging a bloke and I got mad, she got mad…"

"I could swear…that Weasley temper. So what did you do? You didn't ask me or at least confront me about it now did you?"

"I…" Ron groaned aloud, the painful remorse resurfacing. "I didn't confront you because I believed Ginny and well, I…went for the closest thing to make you jealous."

Hermione was silent, old scars telling. She stared at Ron.

"Ron…" She uttered finally.

"I'm sorry Hermione."

"Oh Ron, I'm sorry."

"Your sorry? Don't be sorry, I was the bloody prick. I'm sorry."

Hermione laughed softly, connecting her forehead to Ron.

"It doesn't matter, Ron. I have you now don't I?"

"You have me alright. You have all of me. Temper and all."

"Your mine," Hermione echoed, their noses embracing, "I love the sound of that."

Some convincing ensued and as they separated silly smiles plastered their faces.

"I'm yours, Ron." Hermione mumbled against his lips.

"The hand as well?"

She smiled against his kiss.

"Yes and I'll throw the other one in for free."

"Do you feel like you still need to sleep on the floor next to me?"

"I don't need to but I want to."

Ron shrugged, "That's fine by me."

"Tell me a secret, tell me something I don't know."

"My favorite color is brown."

While grinning foolishly and lifting herself on her side slightly, she whispered into the ear Ron did not lie on.

"Do you know what subject I read the most in our sixth year?" She asked. Ron shook his head, incapable of any other response.

"Quidditch. As soon as I found out you were trying out."

"Blimey Hermione, you're insatiable."

"Thank you," She beamed.

"Did…did you ever want to kiss Krum?"

"Ron, I thought we agreed to move on from that."

"We will, I promise but I just wanted to know."

She paused, carefully considering her words.

"In a way I did. It's sounds stupid now but I thought if I did kiss him I might be able to get some practice in case you ever wanted to kiss me. Really foolish, wasn't it? But somehow I always thought you would be really good at kissing. Ironic, actually, when I thought about kissing Krum, I was actually thinking about you."

"Are you disappointed?"

"No, not at all."

Ron appreciated immensely this confession before signing a gesture of relentless devotion on Hermione's delicate blonde eyelash tips.

"Tell me another secret." Hermione insisted.

"I hate mayonnaise but never told my mum."

"Really? Rather silly isn't it, not to tell your mum you don't like mayonnaise. Why didn't you ever tell her?"

He shrugged as he replied, "I don't know, just didn't bother mentioning it. I guess I just got so use to wiping it off so I never bothered to tell her."

Her thoughts chewed on this a moment before she hummed her approval of his confession.

"I just can't manage you disliking anything edible."

"Believe it, Hermione. Now it's your turn. Tell me something I don't know—not anything involving the protection of magical creatures or house elves. I mean tell me something about yourself, something Harry or Ginny don't know."

"For your information, I don't tell Ginny everything and I don't usually confide in Harry for girl problems."

"Alright then, just tell me a secret."

"I've only read one book once."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Hermione that's just nutters. What book was it?"

"Dr. Seuss' Cat in the Hat."

"What? Another illness?"

"No, just a muggle book. It's the first book I read by myself and the last book I would read once."

"No offense, Hermione, but don't go telling everyone that, they may think you're a know it all or something."

"Oh do shut up, Ron."

Ron smiled mischievously, his hand holding gently her waist.

"Tell me something else," Hermione whispered against Ron's smile, their distance unloosened.

"I think you have the most perfect eyebrows I have ever seen."

Hermione shook her head, causing her nose to graze slightly against Ron's.

"I already knew that."

"Oh, right. You know everything." Ron rolled his eyes and smirked. Hermione yawned behind her hand, attempting to hide the apparent exhaustion she accompanied.

"You're tired." Ron stated inquisitively.

"You're so smart."

"Here," Ron began, commencing to hold her waist again, "turn the other way."

"What? Afraid of a little morning breath?" Hermione mocked but obeyed.

"No, just 'fraid I wont fall asleep staring at something so beautiful."

Ron could feel her blush burn.

"Oh."

Hesitating before inching closer against the back of Hermione, Ron awkwardly placed his hand in the rivet between her hip and rib. He breathed heavily and loudly. Hermione felt the sentiments of his heart and lungs yelping against her shoulder blades and continued to worsen Ron's chances of survival by interlacing her hand and arm and placing it further across her body onto her stomach.

"Calm down, Ron." Hermione suggested in her authoritative manner.

"Mmmhmm." Ron breathed, his nose digging into her hair. "Sorry, I've only…"

"Dreamt about this forever…" Hermione finished.

"Right." He smiled.

He pressed his hand against her stomach and began to draw elaborate circles with his thumb. Where Ron breathed heavily, Hermione stopped breathing all together, an act not going unnoticed by Ron.

"Calm down, Hermione."

'Twas Hermione's turn to smile.

"Goodnight, Ron."

"It will be."

Ron's sixth Hermione sense saw her rolling her eyes but also a smile perpetually in the wake of her perfect lips.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

"It is."

_Heaven is here_

_And tonight we are the only ones who feel it_

Never before had they felt more alive than now with the waking of their hearts and the sleeping of their fears and the unmistakable assurance of the other's existence and their existence forevermore irremovable from each other. A happy funeral. It was a death to their fears and an awakening of their desires, waking it alive.

_And I know_

_I am alive_


End file.
